Agent with a History (3 page)

“Well he went to Philippe’s table and
Philippe got a real serious expression on his face. I think he was
scared. He and the man talked for probably over an hour and
Philippe wrote something down on a paper and then the big man
left.”

“What happened to Philippe then?”

A blond from the end of the line spoke up, “I
think they slipped him a micky in his drink, because he fell back
asleep on the table.”

“Then what?”

“They told us to go home and paid us what
they said they would.”

I held up the sketch, “Is this the man that
talked to Philippe?”

The brunette smile widely, “It sure is! I...”
I held up my hand to cut off any further lurid conversation.

“Have any of you seen this man since
then?”

The same blond as before spoke up, “I
overheard two of them say they were going to interrogate another
man in the next room when they were done with Philippe.”

I nodded. Two men? The plot was certainly
thickening. “Nobody heard this man’s name?” I asked, holding up the
sketch of the man again and they all nodded no. “Thank you for your
time and cooperation. I may need some of you to testify as to what
you’ve told me so don’t any of you leave town, understand?”

On a chorus of nods we left the back stage
area and headed back out into the noise and lights. Once in the car
I pressed my hand to my forehead and kept the pressure there for a
moment.

“Headache?” Rafferty asked.

I nodded.

“Maybe you should take a sleeping pill or
two? You need to get some rest.” He said in evident concern.

I smiled, my little watch dog was worried
about me as usual. “I’ll be fine. Call our lover boy in and see if
we have an address.”

He sighed, but complied. “Got it! He’s housed
in a swanky apartment complex five blocks from here. I put the car
in gear and we eased out into traffic.

There was a do not disturb sign on the door
and the sight of it just didn’t sit well with me. It didn’t match
with what I already knew of Philippe Valo.

He was the consummate playboy, devil-may-care
thief. He was implicated in a dozen or more antiquity thefts and
even a few bank jobs. There had never been enough evidence though
to pin an indictment on him.

He may be flashy, but he was smart too. He
liked money and he was good at getting it, by all accounts. He led
an easy-going life.

He was the kind of guy that would proposition
a cleaning lady, who accidentally walked into him having sex, into
joining along in the act. Hanging a ‘do not disturb sign’ on the
door just wasn’t his style. I glanced at Rafferty and I saw he was
thinking the same thing. We both drew our guns.

I was about to knock on the door when I heard
a muffled cry of pain from within the room.

Probable cause.

That was all I needed. I shot the key pad
lock, disarming it in the process, as it returned to its default
setting and then I side-kicked the door busting it open and tearing
the security chain off with it in the process. Rafferty ducked past
me into the room as I swung in after him. In a split second of
realization I took in the grisly scene of the room. Three tall
black men were gathered around the only bed in the room, where they
were systematically cutting up Philippe just as they must have done
to Ahmed.

The words ‘Police! Freeze!’ stuck fast in my
throat, as the savage eyed men turned towards the door and us with
nothing but deadly intent in their eyes, as they lobbed bloody
knives at us. I ducked to the side of a knife that slammed into the
wall where I had just been and took aim on one of the men that was
pulling a pistol clear of his waistband. I shot him in the
shoulder, but with a grimace of pain, he kept bringing the gun up
and I shot him three times in the chest, killing him.

The man beside him was running straight for
me and I aimed for his leg and missed. He slapped my gun away so
hard it felt like my trigger finger was almost broken off, as the
gun flew from my grasp. I ducked as his fist plowed into the
drywall where my head had been. I continued on around him and
helped his forward movement by shoving him hard into the wall, but
before I could secure him against it, he jack knifed backwards into
me sending an elbow into my ribs that had me sucking for air and
back pedaling away fast.

I ducked a wild swing at my head only to find
that it had been a set up for his other fist, which struck me hard
on the cheek bone. I fell off to the side onto my knees, as stars
flashed in my head briefly.

I saw his leg coming out at my head in a
sideways knockout kick. My rigorous training took over in place of
my sluggish brain. I caught the foot and twisted the leg sharply.
The man cried out at the sudden pain and with the momentum of his
kick at me and my twisting of his leg he turned over and fell onto
his front. I leaped onto him, driving my knees into his back and
knocking him back to the floor as he tried to rise.

I quickly pinned his one arm with a knee, as
I pulled his other arm up behind him until I felt his shoulder
about to pop. Raferty dove onto his legs helping to further hold
the man down with his weight. Rafferty apparently had dealt with
the other guy at some point in this scuffle.

I reached for the hand cuffs behind my back
with one hand. “You’re going to face a lot of tough questions pal!
Not to mention a murder rap!” I said, breathing heavy.

He reared his head back and I was about to
tweak his arm harder to further pacify him, when I heard him chomp
down on his jaw hard. His body began to jerk and spasm beneath us
and then he was still.

I felt for a pulse, but there was none. I
glanced at his face, turned out to the side, and saw the foaminess
of his mouth.

He had chomped down on a poison capsule under
a false tooth! Who did that anymore? That kind of stuff went out
with the Cold War decades ago, hadn’t it? Who would kill themselves
in order to avoid capture?

I heard a groan from the bed and I remembered
the tortured man. I jumped up and went to the bed noticing that the
other man in the room was lying on the floor dead, with a hand near
a fallen gun.

I looked down at Philippe’s bloody body not
knowing where to start and grimly knew that there wasn’t anything
that could be done anyway. He had but moments to live.

“Call an ambulance.” I said to Rafferty
anyway.

Philippe seemed to be coming in and out of
consciousness and I quickly took his gag off. His eyes focused on
me.

“Philippe this is very important. Can you
tell me what you’ve gotten mixed up in? Who sent these men to do
this?”

His words though weak were clear enough, “I’m
not telling you anything nigger!”

His blatant racism wasn’t anything new. I’d
dealt with it in one form or another all my life from both sides,
black and white.

I ignored the hatred in his eyes and said in
an effort to get him to talk, “Well, if it makes any difference,
I’m a half-breed, so maybe you could at least tell the half white
girl side of me something?”

He shook his head resolutely and muttered
out, “ I should have listened to Flint. I shouldn’t have stayed. I
shouldn’t have….”

He was fading fast. I leaned close, “Who is
Flint? Did he send these men?”

His eyes opened briefly in comprehension and
he shook his head no.

“Was he the man that met you at the
warehouse?”

He nodded yes and then slumped dead on the
bed as he exhaled out his last breath. I leaned back up from the
bed as EMTs came rushing through the broken door. I moved away from
the bed to stare out the window at the glittering lights of the
city.

At least now I had a name. That was something
right? I really wasn’t sure anymore. I needed sleep. The hit to my
head had only made my headache worse. I wasn’t going to be able to
function much longer at this rate. A passing EMT saw my cheek and
stopped to work on it. She pulled the split and bruised skin back
together with some butterfly stitches and then gave me a reproving
look.

“Those eyes of yours tell me you need to see
a bed ASAP and I suggest you stay there for the next ten hours or
so.”

I nodded, got up and headed for the door.

Rafferty held my gun out to me and I took it
gratefully, just as I was grateful to have him here to back me
up.

“I’m going home to bed.”

“Good, I’ll drive you there.”

“Okay.” I said softly, being unusually
passive.

I fumbled with the keys at the door of my
apartment for a moment. Finally, I slipped the right key into the
worn lock and opened the door.

I shut the door behind me with a swing of my
foot. No one and nothing rushed up to greet me as I entered my
little haven, away from the watchful eyes of the world. I’d never
cared much for dogs. I did however get a cat three years ago.

It hadn’t like me though and I had ended up
giving it to a kid three doors down from me. At last report they
were very happy with each other. After the cat, I had gotten some
fish. I had not expected to enjoy them as much as I had.

It had been so rewarding to see them clamor
together at feeding time or just idly watch them swim around. That
ambient past time had ended one morning, when I had found them all
floating belly up. That was a bad morning. I’d even called off work
sick, which was something I had almost never done.

Rafferty had even showed up at my apartment
to see what was wrong. I’d been an emotional wreck and he had been
the one to dispose of the fish. It seemed stupid to be so
emotionally involved over a few dead fish, but I had been. To
Rafferty’s credit he had seemed to understand and hadn’t told
anyone about the incident. I’d been putting off getting anymore
fish, but maybe it was time.

Maybe this place would hold a little more
meaning again and not be quite so lack-luster and lonely. Weariness
hit me in a wave. By the light of the city lights outside, I popped
back some Ibuprofen, probably more than I should have, and started
taking my clothes off, dropping them on the floor on my way to the
bed. I didn’t even bother to take my bra off or change into sleep
wear; I just crashed into the bed, which I instantly regretted when
my cheek hit the pillow hard. Turning my head so my good cheek was
down, I reached down and yanked the covers up over me. Sleep closed
in fast, but before it did my hand closed over the golden cross of
my necklace and I whispered a prayer for peace from the nightmares
that had been haunting me again as of late.

I wasn’t overly religious but I knew there
was a God. It had been a long time since I had gone to church or
even prayed. Maybe I should do that this weekend, was my last
thought.

I jerked upright in the bed, my scream still
lingering in my ears. My hand went to my mouth and I started to
sob.

I couldn’t take it anymore! Oh God please
help me!

I crashed back against my pillows and I cried
for a while, but sleep wouldn’t come, no matter how much I needed
it. I threw back the covers and got up. I looked at the alarm clock
in disgust, 2:00am. I’d only been asleep for less than two
hours.

My eyes burned and I stumbled my way to the
bathroom. I didn’t turn on the light, as I turned on the faucet and
splashed cold water on my face repeatedly. I stood there for a
moment, water dripping off my face onto the countertop. I was so
tired of this!

I headed back to the bed dreading every step,
but I had to get some sleep even at the risk of another nightmare.
I was about to slip back under the covers, when the hairs on the
back of my neck stood up.

I wasn’t alone!

It was a terrible realization to have and I
reacted quickly out of fear, my hands dove under my pillow to grasp
a small 9mm I kept there and I swung around with it held high. My
aim centered on the shadowy outline of a person sitting in one of
my small kitchenette chairs.

The filtered city light from outside outlined
the individual and I made it out to be a man wearing a dark suit.
Something chilled within me as I guessed as to whom it could be,
the man from the sketch!

I was breathing hard, as if I had just been
in a race, and I felt the tight grip I had on the gun waver
slightly.

‘Get a hold of yourself Lisa!’ My brain
screamed inside at me, but I couldn’t help it.

Fear gripped me hard as I stared down the
barrel of the pistol at the man sitting in my kitchen chair. “How
long have you been sitting there?” I asked, as my mind seized in
consideration of everything that he could have done to me and
perhaps still could. My grip tightened on the gun yet further at
the possibility of that last thought.

He spoke, “I’m sorry I didn’t wake you from
the nightmare you were having, but I figured that living alone and
being woken up by a stranger would be a nightmare all of its
own.”

“Who are you and what are you doing in my
apartment?” Before he could answer I added, “Are you here to kill
me?”

There was a short moment of silence. “If I
was here to kill you, you would already be dead. As to who I am,
you may call me Flint. As to why I’m here, it would be best put
that I’ve come to warn you.”

He stood up and my grip tightened on the
trigger.

“That gun isn’t loaded.” He said softly.

He took a step toward me and I pulled the
trigger.

Click! Click! Click!

He’d unloaded my gun and slipped it back
under my pillow while I slept!

A little cry of despair escaped me. I turned
and felt under my side of the mattress for the sawed off shotgun I
kept there.

It was gone!

I turned to the night table for my phone but
it was gone too! I glanced at the slowly approaching man and saw
him hold up my phone before he slipped it back into a coat pocket.
There was nothing else to do, I had to take him out if I was to
survive.