Vendetta Target: Six Assassins Book 5 Read online

  And there was a certain craftsmanship to it as well. Was this Bam’s creation, or whoever had made it for him? It looked like the work of a professional, something that needed practice and experience, not just a YouTube video and some leftover evening hours. It told Ember to take this guy seriously, because Bam wasn’t messing around.

  A makeshift detonator sat next to it — a smaller explosive device with smaller energy requirements to detonate — with wires sticking back into the larger brick of explosive. And there was a timer on top of it, counting down.

  5:15. 5:14. 5:13.

  The menacing numbers caused immediate panic in Ember. “Oh, shit,” she said.

  She checked her watch, and it was 9:57.

  “Talk about nick of time. Thought you’d surprise me, did you, Bam?”

  Ember knelt next to the bomb and sighed as she looked over the wires. This was a simple job, and she had seen it before. The wires were red and green. A very simple electronic circuit would be completed at countdown, which would spark a chain reaction in the smaller explosive — the detonator.

  That device would have enough power to set off the much larger brick of plastic explosive, and within about 26 millionths of a second, decimate anyone standing in the room.

  It was actually a very similar setup to the bomb she had defused at Lydia Beauchamp’s house a little over two weeks ago — not surprising, considering DAC knowledge of things like this was typically shared amongst Branches.

  Gabe had been the hero that day, guiding her through the process of disarming an explosive that could have done immense damage.

  She held each hand out, with the green wire pinched between her left thumb and middle finger, the red wire pinched between her right. If it was like the previous bomb, she had to pull them both out at once, preventing the circuit from being completed.

  But what if it wasn’t like that? What if Bam had thrown another trick or two into this device?

  Under five minutes left now. Tick. Tick. Tick. No time to sit here and theorize.

  “Damn it, Bam,” she said. “If you blow me up, I’m going to be very upset with you.”

  She held her breath and yanked out both wires at the same time. The LED readout blinked once and then turned off. Silent and still, inert and harmless.

  Ember let out her breath and then sat back, wiping her sweaty hands on her pants. She picked up the bomb and then stood, looking around the apartment. There was almost nothing here. Nothing to tell her what she was supposed to do next.

  “What are you trying to say to me, Bam?”

  She turned the bomb over to find a Post-It Note attached to the bottom. It read:

  Still alive? I’m not surprised, this is the easiest one of the bunch. Bomb #2 is where Niles used to live. Get to work, it goes off in less than 48 hours. Happy hunting, bitch!

  Chapter Nine

  EMBER

  DAY TWO

  Niles’ house was down the street from the five-pointed intersection that gave the neighborhood its name. On Tremont, standing firm amid renovated houses on either side hoping to gentrify the neighborhood, was a small, two-bedroom building made from brick and pale brown siding. Niles Thisdell had lived here up until a month ago, when he had decided to attack Ember in Rocky Mountain National Park late one night and steal her contract. Or, at least, that had been the apparent reason at the time. Fagan had presented a theory that Niles had cancer and was trying to goad Ember into killing him to help Five Points Branch launch a war.

  Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t. Ember had never known Niles well enough to know if a thing like that could be true of him. Going from a contract killer to a cancer-ridden kamikaze would be a stretch for most people, but it could have been entirely within Niles’ character. Ember didn’t know.

  All that mattered this morning was that his recruit—some weird and grim kid named Bam—had planted bombs, with at least one of them as a kind of legacy tribute to his deceased mentor. Five total, according to Bam. Ember had already found one last night, so she had to believe the other four were out there somewhere.

  She sipped her coffee and turned off her car’s engine. With a black baseball cap pulled down low, she tucked her hair up underneath it. She put her keys in her pocket and her twin Enforcer pistols in the back of her waistband, then left the car. Twenty minutes of staring at the house had yielded nothing suspicious. As far as Ember knew, there was no police investigation into Niles’ death, so no reason to think the cops were watching his house. DAC members were often like that; few had family to persuade the police to look into their deaths or disappearances.

  Like Gabe. He had cut off contact with his family, so did they even know he was dead yet? Ember knew Gabe had carried around a fake ID in his wallet, but the police would eventually identify him by dental records, or maybe DNA. Would his wealthy Oklahoma oilman dad pressure the police to solve his murder? Would they assume it was a drug deal gone bad and let the case go cold?

  Ember sighed as she crossed the street, a sunny chill this morning making her squint and shudder in equal measure. The house next door had one of those smart front doorbells with a camera built in, so Ember kept her face pointed away from it until she had passed the invisible cone of surveillance.

  Then a quick hop over Niles’ back fence to a yard with almost nothing in it. Flimsy chain-link fence, a back porch with rusted patio furniture and a few empty beer bottles sitting on the ground. Random bits of trash sitting at various points in the yard. Ember assumed the neighbors just loved looking at this junky backyard from their energy-efficient double pane side windows every day. Soon this house would be demolished and another cramped and boxy multi-million dollar structure would materialize in its place.

  Ember slipped on a pair of latex gloves and crossed the yard. The ground was hard and cold, patches of ice frozen over last night. She kept her eyes on the windows, but there was no one home. Niles hadn’t been married, had no kids.

  The back door would provide no challenge. It didn’t even have a deadbolt. A paperclip bent into two prongs and a bit of wiggling allowed her access, then she stepped inside to the kitchen and her nose was immediately struck by the pungent sourness of rotting garbage. Niles had also left the heat on high last time he’d been here, and she felt her cheeks flush immediately. She wondered if she’d catch some kind of bacterial infection just breathing the air in this place.

  “Oh, God,” she said as she pulled her shirt over her nose. It wasn’t nearly a good enough filter to keep the horrible stench out of her nostrils. Gagging, trying to breathe through her mouth, she quickly moved through the pantry and the drawers. Since Bam had left the bomb last night practically out in the open, she figured the best approach would be to first conduct a surface-level search. If she didn’t pass out from the smell.

  Bam had tried to get the best of her last night by lying to her about how much time was on the timer, but Ember also had a feeling he wanted her to find these bombs. He wanted her poking around, looking through Niles’ things.

  “That’s what this is,” she said to the empty kitchen. “Not a scavenger hunt. This is an educational trip around Denver to teach me about Niles.”

  But why? Why did this kid need her to understand more about his mentor? Was it so she would understand how upset he was about losing Niles, right up until the moment Bam detonated a final bomb to get his revenge? Was she supposed to learn that he was some great man, and society had lost a shining jewel because of his death?

  That was crazy, but it also made a certain kind of sense. It seemed like the sort of sentimental and psychotic thing a young Five Points member would do; full of passion and recklessness. Driven by anger and chaos.

  Ember left the kitchen and hunted around through the living room, then a laundry room, guest bedroom, master bedroom. The smell got progressively better as she moved away from the kitchen, which made her grateful. The rest of the house didn’t smell exactly like roses and lilacs, but it was a step up.

  She didn’t find a
ny bombs in the closets, under the beds, behind the couches, or anywhere else. Everything in this house seemed normal. Messy, poorly laid out, but normal.

  She sat on the couch and slipped off her latex gloves as she took her wallet out of her back pocket and examined the Post-It Note from last night:

  Still alive? Bomb #2 is where Niles used to live. Get to work, it goes off in less than 48 hours. Happy hunting!

  Used to live. If Bam were thinking about Niles in the present tense, then this house would be where he lived now, and “used to live” would refer to somewhere other than this place. Maybe the bomb was at a previous residence, and not here? If true, then Ember was at the wrong address, which made her heart skip a beat.

  Ember whipped out her phone and dialed Fagan.

  “Not blown up yet, I see,” Fagan said as she answered. “That’s one worry off my mind.”

  “No, I’m still in one piece this morning, thanks. I’m at Niles’ house in Five Points. There’s no bomb here. I’m thinking maybe Niles has either another house or apartment, or he used to live somewhere before this in Denver?”

  “It’s possible. Off-hand, I don’t know.”

  There had to be websites where they could look up his rental history. Ember knew there were government resources for this sort of thing, multiple programs that could handle tracking down Niles’ previous addresses with little more than the stroke of a keyboard. She couldn’t access those databases now without arousing suspicion, however. This would have been the sort of tech task Gabe would have handled for her.

  She felt a pang of regret as Gabe’s face flashed into her mind.

  “Would you like me to look into it?” Fagan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Could you? If Bam is telling the truth, I have about thirty-six hours left to find the next bomb.”

  “I’m on it. If he has aliases, it’ll slow me down, but I’ll work as fast as I can.”

  “Thanks, boss lady. Much appreciated.”

  Ember ended the call and then rolled her head around her neck a few times. Next up on the to-do list for the day would be checking in on Zach. He was still all alone in that motel room, waiting around for Ember to help him figure out his near future.

  But then, something gnawed at the back of her mind. She hadn’t seen a computer anywhere in the house. No laptop, no monitors, no cables, nothing. He had a television and a house phone, he lived in the middle of a highly populated area, so he wasn’t an “off grid” sort of person.

  Why wouldn’t Niles have a computer?

  She put on her latex gloves again and headed for his bedroom. A large wooden desk had been pushed up against one wall, papers and clutter all over it like grenade shrapnel. She started in the top middle drawer, where she found all the usual desk items. Pens, pencils, loose pages, paperclips, stamps, and the like. The top drawer revealed an archive of magazines, like Soldier of Fortune, Guns and Ammo, and Playboy.

  But the bottom drawer contained something that piqued her interest. Several notebooks filled with pencil scribbles. Hundreds of pages of notes here. Ember didn’t have time to parse through it all, but on the second page of the top notebook, she found a list, dated two months ago:

  Least vulnerable branches

  Boulder

  Golden

  Most vulnerable branches

  Westminster

  Highlands

  Ember sat on Niles’ bed and stared at the list. Not much to go from here, Niles, she thought.

  Maybe Niles had a secret stash of other notebooks somewhere, filled to the brim with helpful, juicy details, or if this half-assed list was just a drunken middle-of-the-night exercise. Her eyes raced over the words a dozen times, mouthing the names of the DAC Branches. Most and least vulnerable to what? Infiltration by spies? Corruption? Attack?

  She couldn’t help but notice Niles’ own Five Points was not on the list.

  “Were you looking for targets for a war, Niles?”

  Even if she didn’t have time to go through it, there could be useful information here. Ember gathered up as many of the notebooks as she could carry before she left the house.

  Chapter Ten

  ZACH

  ZACH

  Zach Bennett finished telling what he thought was the best lie of his life. Not that he was good at lying, or had practiced it much before, or even felt okay with the activity in the moment. It felt terrible, actually. But as he sat across from his college advisor this morning in her shoebox-sized office, he didn’t know what else to do.

  He shouldn’t have come to Fort Collins at all, actually. His heart hadn’t stopped thundering like a brakeless eighteen-wheeler on a steep grade since he had rolled into town. But if he flunked these classes, he could kiss his financial aid goodbye. Plus, his GPA couldn’t afford the hit of fifteen credit hours of failing grades.

  So, he sat across from this older woman and flashed puppy dog eyes and claimed a personal emergency for why he had missed assignments and tests over the last week. This was groundwork. On the chance he would have to miss more classes, maybe there was some way he could still withdraw from the semester without taking failing grades, despite being past the drop dates. A semester full of W’s was better than one full of F’s, no doubt. That might still put his financial aid in jeopardy, but it wasn’t a death blow.

  The insurance money from his father’s passing had run dry long ago, so this financial aid was now critical. Especially if he continued on to grad school as planned.

  His advisor reached back to adjust her ponytail, then she leaned forward. The frown on her face softened as her desk lamp reflected off her prescription glasses. “I’ll help where I can, but you should speak with your professors, too.”

  “I’ll do that. I appreciate you hearing me out this morning.”

  She frowned, pressing her lips together, as if collecting her words. “You have a brilliant mind, Zach. You have an innate understanding of how to apply science in a way that I could never have.”

  He raised his eyebrows, a bit startled at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you.”

  “But I sometimes wonder if you have a bit of an ‘absent-minded professor’ thing to you. Like you can’t see the forest for the trees. Or, you might wander around for ten minutes searching for the glasses sitting on top of your head.”

  He considered for a moment that she was implying he was on the autism spectrum, which, as far as he knew, he wasn’t.

  Eager to end this conversation, he said nothing, only looked at her with pensive eyes and a closed mouth.

  “You have a bright future ahead of you. But success in life isn’t only about smarts. You have to make wise choices, too. Who you marry, the jobs you take, how you save your money… these are the things that make or break a person in life.”

  “Sounds like solid advice.”

  She shrugged. “What do I know?”

  Zach took that as a cue to leave. He stood and extended a hand to shake, commanding his limb not to shake from the anxiety coursing through him. “Thank you. For everything.”

  She gripped his palm, and then he collected his things to leave. Once he had turned and left her office, he began to feel a little better. The most unpleasant part of his day was now done. Not having to look her in the eyes any longer, the lies didn’t feel as painful.

  It’s not as if Zach could have been honest. Sure, I got involved with this shady company and they’ve implied threats toward me and tried to have my girlfriend killed and I have to go into hiding and by telling you, I’ve probably also put your life in danger.

  No, lying through his teeth was a better option for everyone involved.

  Zach exited the Chemistry building, head down, and had taken a few steps down the stairs out front when he noticed two pairs of polished black shoes at the bottom. He looked up to see Thomas Milligan and Helmut standing there, both in suits. Thomas had a big grin on his face, holding a briefcase in one hand. Helmut wore his typical blank scowl.

  They were shoulder to shou
lder, blocking access to the sidewalk.

  “Morning, Zach,” Thomas said. “Do you have a moment?”

  How had they found him? Had someone been watching this building, waiting for Zach to make an appearance?

  He took stock of the situation. He was about ten steps above them. If he tried to dart left or right, Helmut could grab him. Would he, though? The building’s lawn wasn’t thickly populated, but there were a few students and others out and about. Zach could run back into the building, but then what? Call the cops? That didn’t seem like a wise choice, either. A temporary solution that would end in no action. He couldn’t even prove these two had done anything illegal.

  “I do not have a moment,” Zach said.

  “Can we go somewhere to talk? Won’t take long. Promise.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Thomas pointed to a set of benches on the icy ground to the right of the building. “How about there? Just so you’re not blocking building traffic and we can discuss your future in peace.”

  Zach tightened his jaw. In the movies, they would escort him out to the street and then toss him in the back of a van before anyone could see wrongdoing. But that clearly wouldn’t work here. There was no van and no car parked close to the benches.

  Also, at least a dozen people would see it happen. That didn’t guarantee safety, but it made Zach a little less freaked out.

  He clenched his fists and descended the steps. As he passed Thomas and faced the bench, he said, “You have two minutes, then I’m walking.”

  Thomas followed him there and sat first, with his briefcase in his lap. Helmut stayed back, closer to the building’s steps. As soon as Zach sat, Thomas popped open his briefcase and lifted a stack of papers.