Shadow Brokers (Infernum Book 5) Read online

  “So you’ll take the job?”

  Marco closed the file. “I will. Someone has to see to it that she pays for what she’s done. And maybe our past association will throw her off her game.”

  Chandler nodded. “My thoughts exactly. I’ve already made arrangements with Kim’s contact. He’s set up a meet with her in Costa Rica in three days. Intercept her and bring her back alive. The details are in the file. You’re dismissed, Agent Marco.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Marco stood from the chair, picking up the file as he did. He turned and walked out the office, closing the doors behind him.

  Once Marco was gone, Chandler reached for the phone on his desk. He picked up the receiver and entered the code for a secure line, then dialed the number. After a few moments, the other end answered.

  “It’s Chandler,” he said. “Marco’s accepted the assignment. Time to see where his loyalties truly lie.”

  CHAPTER 3

  The bar was truly a dive in every sense of the word. It had the stench of stale cigarette smoke and spilled whiskey. The lighting was low, but the music provided by the saxophonist on the small stage was certainly enough to take Marco’s mind off the bar’s less-desirable qualities.

  He sat in a dark corner of the bar, his back to the wall so he could observe everyone in the place, as well as keep a watchful eye on the door. Marco raised the beer mug to his lips and took a sip. After setting the glass down on the table, he tugged on the tie’s knot to loosen it and unbuttoned his collar.

  It wasn’t until he was on his second beer that his contact entered the bar. Marco watched as the tall, lanky man with short, dark hair approached him. He pulled out the chair across the table and sat down, reaching inside his windbreaker for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, which he set down.

  “Was this really necessary, Jackal?” asked Marco.

  “What? I like this place.”

  Marco scoffed. “After everything that happened back then, meeting in Outlaw Blues is pretty morbid, don’t you think?”

  Jaquel, or the Jackal as he was called, was an Infernum agent and Marco’s primary source of contact with that organization.

  “You said this was about Julie Kim, right? Thought it had a nice sense of symmetry given that she was responsible for the death of the bar’s previous owner.”

  That owner was Carl Flint, a former assassin for Infernum. Retired, until Jackal convinced him to come back for one last job. That last job later led to a confrontation between Flint and Kim and a vicious Colombian drug cartel.

  “Hey, Mickey!” Jackal shouted to the man behind the bar. “Can you get me a beer?” He turned back to Marco. “So, what’s this about?”

  “It’s like I told you in the message,” said Marco. “Chandler has ordered me to bring in Julie. Not kill her, but bring her in. If he wants her alive, that means he’s got some enhanced interrogation in mind.”

  Jackal’s beer arrived as he began to light his cigarette. He nodded his thanks to Mickey and set the cigarette in the ashtray so he could take a drink. After setting his beer down, he flashed Marco a look of incredulity.

  “Who gives a shit?”

  Marco blinked. “Did you just hear what I said?”

  “Yeah, I did. And I reiterate: who gives a shit?” Jackal inhaled the smoke from his cigarette and blew it back out from his nostrils. “Infernum’s not in the business of protecting burned Agency operatives.”

  Marco scoffed. “Then how do you explain Angela Lockhart?”

  Jackal rolled his eyes. “Not my call. And in case you’ve forgotten, she caused us a lot of stress.”

  Marco leaned forward. “Listen, I’ve done a lot for Infernum over the years. I tipped you off to Christian Pierce’s attempts to bring in Lockhart. I gave you the intel on how the Agency was using the Suarez cartel as a source of funding. I told you about Johnny Venom’s auction in Turkey, I gave you the Fixers’ location in Russia. I’ve stuck my neck out time and time again for Dante.”

  “And you’ve been well-compensated each and every time.”

  “I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty, okay?” Marco’s tone became more agitated, but he kept his voice low.

  “Not the point,” said Jackal. “If you want Infernum to protect someone who has tried to take us down several times in the past, then we’re going to need a damn good reason to do so.”

  Marco glanced around the bar. There was a definite possibility Chandler had him followed. He was suspicious if his cover was still intact or not. “Listen, Chandler says that Kim stole something from the Agency. Some sort of sensitive data and is trying to trade it for a new identity. It could be valuable.”

  “Or it could be bullshit.”

  Marco cocked his head to the side. “What?”

  “Think about it. Who’s to say Chandler isn’t onto you? This could all be a ploy designed to smoke out a mole.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “I don’t, but if Kim were offering to sell Agency intel in exchange for a new identity, don’t you think Infernum would’ve been the first to jump?”

  “Maybe she’s staying quiet. You guys don’t exactly have the best history.”

  Jackal shook his head and treated himself to another sip of his beer. “Okay. Just for the sake of curiosity, let’s say I take this to the big man and he gives the go-ahead. Very big if, I should add, but let’s say he does. What exactly would you have us do?”

  “Interfere with the op,” said Marco. “Grab Julie before I can get to her. Or better yet, interfere when I have her. Make it look good, send someone with some serious skills. You guys get Julie out of there, make a deal with her—the intel for a clean slate. She’s out of the Agency’s clutches, you have some deeper knowledge of what they’re up to, and my cover is safe. Everyone wins.”

  Jackal reached for his cigarette and took a drag on the filter. He held it between his index and middle finger, exhaling the smoke slowly. Marco recognized the look on his contact’s face—Jackal was thinking about the possibilities.

  “And you have no idea what sort of intel we’re talking about?”

  Marco shook his head. “All I know is that Chandler told me it was highly classified, could be damaging to the Agency if it got into the wrong hands.”

  Jackal ashed the cigarette in the tray. “I dunno. Whole thing feels a little off to me.” He looked across at Marco, making eye contact. “You do realize that if this is a set-up and we stick our necks out for Kim only to get our heads chopped off, then I’m the one who’s gotta deal with Dante. And trust me, he’s not the kind of guy you wanna piss off.”

  “Is there any way you can figure out if it’s legitimate?” asked Marco.

  Jackal sighed. “I can try. If Kim’s looking for a new identity and offering Agency intel, there are some usual suspects who’d be interested in taking that deal.”

  “Chandler said Julie’s contact reached out to them.”

  “That narrows down the list a little more,” said Jackal.

  “He’s got me flying out to Costa Rica in three days to grab her.”

  Jackal clicked his tongue. “Jesus, you don’t like advance warning, do you?”

  “I just found out about it myself. Believe me if I’d known in advance, I would have told you.”

  Jackal finished off the last of the beer. “Look, I can’t promise anything. I’ll make some calls and touch base with the big man.”

  “And what do I do if I don’t hear from you?” asked Marco.

  Jackal shrugged. “Guess you just have to do the job and hope she kicks your ass."

  CHAPTER 4

  Mason Draconi woke to a splitting headache. His eyelids opened, vision slightly blurred from the disorientation of sleep. An off-white ceiling came into focus, with a fan and light fixture hanging above him. The fan was on, moving at a slow rotation to provide some relief from the heat.

  Judging from the humidity, he knew he was still in Costa Rica. And after a moment, his memory returned with clarity
as he recalled Virgil’s attack on him. Draconi had to get out of here, figure out his next move.

  He tried to sit up on the cot, but found he couldn’t move much. Draconi tested his arms and legs and found that he was bound to the cot by his wrists and ankles. He struggled against the bonds, the metal of the cuffs pressing into his flesh as he tried.

  The sound of a lock turning. Draconi moved his head to the side to see. The room wasn’t very big and the door seemed to be made of metal. Virgil entered the room, gun held casually at his side. He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and dragged it over to the side of the cot.

  Virgil sat, crossing his legs and resting the gun casually on his thigh. With a free hand, he produced the cigarette holder from his shirt pocket, opened it and drew one out with his teeth. Virgil snapped the case closed and returned it to his pocket, then lit it using the Zippo.

  “You traitorous sonnuva bitch,” hissed Draconi.

  Virgil blinked and took the cigarette from his mouth with two fingers. “Harsh words to throw at a former pupil, Mason.”

  “Thought you were dead.”

  “Because that’s what I wanted everyone to think. Made disappearing a little bit easier.”

  “So you stage your death, cut your face to look different, and now what? You’re back in the game?”

  “Something like that.” Virgil cast his eyes around the small room for an ashtray. Not seeing one, he shrugged and discarded the ash onto the wooden floor.

  “You said this is about more than the Agency,” said Draconi.

  “It is, though they’re involved. It’s about Dante. It’s always been about Dante.”

  Draconi chuckled. “Christ, Virgil. You sound like Jan fucking Brady.”

  Virgil’s lips briefly tightened at the jab, but he maintained his composure. “You and him were always close. The star pupil, the proud teacher. I had to work twice as hard for half the rewards.”

  Draconi’s response to Virgil’s accusation came in the form of a scoff. “Oh come off it. I never played favorites with you two, or anyone else in my charge. You were my students. You came to me soft and it was my job to mold you into warriors.”

  “That you did. All in the service of a corrupt regime of shadow men.” Virgil raised the gun and pressed it against Draconi’s head. “All that blood on our hands…we thought we were working for the greater good. But then we discovered the only thing we were doing was helping the Cabal get richer.”

  Draconi narrowed his eyes. “It’s a messy business. I never claimed any sort of moral authority. I did my job, put in my years, then left the business behind. And I was paid handsomely for my service.”

  “Your soul fetched a fine price, I see. Nice little retirement you’ve built up here in paradise,” said Virgil. “But this is about more than your deception. More than the Agency’s lies.”

  “Right, your whole middle child syndrome,” said Draconi. “If you hated the bastard so much, why’d you let yourself get burned right alongside him?”

  Virgil raised the gun and relaxed in the chair again. He took another drag from the cigarette. “I thought we were brothers. I thought that through all the shit we’d endured together, we’d formed a bond stronger than steel. But he was never one for teamwork, was he? Never one to share in the spoils.”

  Virgil sighed and then continued.

  “After my confrontation with Dante ended in my ‘death,’ I waited in the shadows. Watched as Dante and the Cabal waged their little war against each other. I bided my time, collecting the intelligence I needed. Prepared for my endgame.”

  “And what’s the endgame?”

  Virgil chuckled before drawing on the cigarette again, the embers burning away the paper and tobacco. Smoke billowed from his mouth while he spoke. “Mason, do you think my time in hibernation has softened my brain? I still watch movies, you know. And I’m not about to fall into the cliché where the villain reveals his diabolical plan to the captive hero.”

  He dropped the cigarette on the floor and ground it beneath his heel. “Besides, you’re not the hero of this story. You’re part of the expendable supporting cast.” Virgil raised the gun again, pointing it at Draconi’s head. “I could kill you right this instant and they’d never find your body. No one would care enough to bother looking.”

  “So why am I a prisoner if I’m so insignificant?” asked Draconi.

  Virgil smiled and lowered his weapon. “Oh, you’ve a part of some significance to play. You see, in the time I’ve been away, I’ve been planning vengeance on all my enemies. The pieces are all moving into place and soon, I’ll be able to make my move. In one fell swoop, I’ll eliminate all of them. The Cabal, Infernum, everyone.”

  “And what’s my part in all of that?” asked Draconi.

  “Because Dante still has a soft spot for his mentor,” said Virgil. “In many ways, you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a father. And once he learns that you’ve been taken captive, he’ll send one of his little operatives after you.”

  “And how will he find out?” asked Draconi. “Like you said, there’s no one who cares enough to even notice I’m missing.”

  “Very true, which is why I’ve made arrangements to ensure Dante finds out,” said Virgil. “You’re just one piece, Mason. And only I can see the whole board.”

  CHAPTER 5

  A young woman with chin-length, burgundy hair with a handbag slung across her shoulder and dragging a wheeled suitcase approached the front desk at the Hotel Riu Guanacaste in Costa Rica. She removed her sunglasses and smiled at the man behind the desk.

  “Do you have a reservation?” he asked.

  “I do,” she said, reaching into her purse and removing a wallet. She took out a United States passport and handed it to the man. “Lauren Kahn.”

  The concierge checked the computer and her passport. He gave a nod and a smile, handing her back the passport. “Yes, Ms. Kahn. Your room is ready. Do you require any assistance with your bags?”

  He placed a keycard on the counter and the guest took it in her slender fingers. She gave him a friendly smile. “No, thank you. It’s just the one, I can manage.”

  “Very good. You’re in room 905. Have a pleasant stay.”

  “Thanks.” She took her suitcase by the handle and walked to the elevators, entering into one by herself.

  The light hit the ninth floor and the elevator stopped, doors parting for her. The woman who claimed to be Lauren Kahn walked out of the elevator and into the hallway. She approached the door labeled 905 and slid the keycard into the electronic lock. A green light activated and she turned the handle, pushing the door open.

  She closed the door behind her, turning the additional locks. But she got the sense that she wasn’t alone in here. She raised her sundress and drew the small gun she kept strapped to her thigh.

  The first thing she checked was the bathroom, which was closest to the entrance. Pushing open the door, she stepped on the white tile. The shower was surrounded by fogged glass and there was no one in there. A bathtub also sat in the room, empty.

  She stepped back into the foyer and moved deeper into the room. To her left was a sitting area and the right held a large bed, expertly made. As she surveyed the room, she noticed that the balcony door was open. Quickly, she crossed the distance and stepped onto the balcony, seeing nothing of note.

  Once she stepped back inside, she focused her attention on the closet. Holding the gun in one hand, she moved to the door and carefully reached out. With a sudden jerk, she pulled the door open and stepped back, holding her weapon in both hands.

  The door flew open and a man stood in the closet, holding a gun on her. Her eyes widened when she saw the man who snuck into her room. “Marco?”

  “Julie,” said Marco, keeping his gun level. “Or is it Lauren Kahn now? Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Me?” asked Julie. “You broke into my room. What are you doing?”

  “My job. Chandler sent me down here to brin
g you in.”

  “Still doesn’t know about your extracurricular activities, does he?” asked Julie.

  “Not as far as I know.” Marco glanced at his weapon. “My arms are getting a bit tired. Mind if I lower this thing?”

  “Go right ahead.”

  “You gonna lower yours?”

  Julie shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

  Marco took a breath. “Fair enough. Just promise not to shoot me.”

  He carefully lowered the gun and stood upright. Julie watched his movements and lowered her gun as well. She sighed and sat in one of the loveseats, laying her gun on the coffee table.

  “Think we could both use a drink.”

  Marco tucked the gun into his waistband and walked from the closet over to a small alcove. Located there was a marble counter, glasses, and supplies for making coffee or tea, and above the counter was a liquor dispenser with four bottles held upside-down—dark rum, white rum, tequila, and vodka. He took two glasses, filled them with dark rum, and carried them both to the seating area, setting one in front of Julie.

  “So what’s the story behind this mission?” asked Julie before she took a sip of her drink.

  Marco sat down across from her and sipped his own. “Chandler said you stole some sensitive information from the Agency before you left. He ordered me to bring you in alive.”

  “What?” asked Julie, blinking. “And where’d he hear this?”

  “Apparently, you’d reached out to someone, offered to sell the information you stole in exchange for a clean identity. That contact arranged for a meet here in Costa Rica and tipped off the Agency.”

  Julie scoffed. “Well, that’s all bullshit.”

  “Which part?”

  “Pick one.”

  “So you didn’t steal any files? Didn’t make contact with anyone about a new identity?”

  Julie shook her head. “Not at all what happened. After the fiasco in Russia, I fled the country, made my way down to southeast Asia. I was in Thailand when I received an interesting package—a hard drive.”