Blackjack Dead or Alive (The Blackjack Series Book 3) (44 page)

“God, shut up,” she said. “Just. Stop.”

Her eyes welling with tears that framed a glowing fire within.

“Now is not the time for this, you get me? I plan to live today. I plan to send that posh douche Brutal to a fancy new jail cell for the rest of his life. Okay? I don’t want to hear this crap about ‘if we make it through today’ anymore. If you’re going into this with a death wish, like you did in D.C., then get the fuck off my plane.”

I shook my head, “No, it’s not that-“ I started, but we reached our destination, an open valley with a wide forest covering the countryside. She slammed the stick back and stopped us on a dime, almost as if accentuating her point. If not for the straps holding me to the co-pilot’s seat, I would have crashed through the cockpit.

“About the other thing,” she said. “I don’t look for approval from anyone…not anymore.”

Apogee looked over the terrain and found a clearing, revealing a vast mansion as we approached. She set the autopilot and stood. As I rose to follow, she put her hand on my chest.

“After today, I don’t know what’s going to happen – I can’t see the future,” she said, and drew close, and her other hand finding mine and squeezing tight. “And I know it’s not going to be easy. Don’t you think I know that? This isn’t the kind of thing that…that we’ll just talk about for five minutes and like magic it gets fixed. This is always going to be there, always. It’ll be something we have to deal with. But…if you’re willing to try…then so am I.”

I nodded and she inched in, kissing me.

She split from me and reached over to a control panel, flipping a physical switch that opened the ventral bay and let in a howling explosion of wind.

“Now let’s go kick some villain’s ass,” she said, jumping out.

I couldn’t help but follow.

“I’ll recon the house for the Senator and his wife,” Apogee said over my earpiece as she soared the hundreds of feet down to the acres of manicured lawn at the base of the hill that rose to the Ashbourne mansion. She had her arms spread wide, wrists cocked back, legs coiled and ready. “You come up the lawn and see if you can spot Brutal or any of his cronies.”

I dropped as she did, though with half the grace. Apogee engaged her speed powers as she neared the ground and tore off, using her falling momentum to add to her incredible velocity. She disappeared from sight in a split second as I fired my rocket boots, slowing my fall and hit the ground hard.

I took the fall without complaint from previously whiny joints and muscle. Mirage’s healing power was a miracle, and it felt nice to work without pain. A single furrow of charred earth marked Apogee’s path to Ashbourne’s mansion, but otherwise everything was quiet. I knew something was wrong instantly.

Two vehicles approached from the house, tricked out black Jeeps with heavy weapon emplacements in the rear. Driving them were men in tactical gear, and the rear guns were aimed at me. From my flanks, squads of armored jump pack soldiers rose into the air trailing streams of smoke. These men appeared out of nowhere, either well camouflaged or using some sort of holographic cover to conceal them. They landed around me, weapons ready.

The Jeeps churned earth and grass as they skidded to a halt, leaving enough distance that I couldn’t close without eating a mine’s worth of lead. Several men clambered out of the Jeeps and got closer, keeping the firing line’s clear, creating a perimeter around me. These guys were dressed in regular suits and wore shades, looking more like Secret Service than the rest of the combat team.

The only person there not aiming a weapon at me stood in the perimeter’s second rank. He wore the standard issue black and white suit and tie, but the suit clung tightly to him, and he almost burst out of it as he moved between his own men.

“We’re here to help,” I said, as the guy came closer, leaving his Secret Service buddies behind.

“You’re Blackjack,” he said, taking off the sunglasses.

His eyes were liquid mercury, lacking cornea, pupil, or sclera. I knew immediately who he was.

Global, one of the Original Seven, and possibly the most powerful human on Earth.

*              *              *              *

He was handsome with a square jaw and perfect movie star sandy brown hair. His alien silvery eyes were unreadable, but everything about the guy screamed confidence. He was a pro and nothing I could bring would surprise him. There was a slight shift in his posture and features as he reached for his ear to adjust a communication piece. He turned his back on me, as if I wasn't there. Then again, he had little to fear from me.

“Say that again,” he said. “I think that's a terrible idea, madam. Why don't you…yes, yes. I understand.”

In an instant, his cockiness was gone, replaced with an intense calm. Global was no longer calling the shots, but was still in control of the situation. His eyes were focused past me, and I could tell he was using some sort of ability to read the surrounding area, trying to scope out any more wildcards. I could only imagine who the “madam” was.

“Do we restrain him, sir,” one of the armored guards said, but Global ignored him turning those mercury eyes on me. I felt like a small rodent scampering across an open field, and Global was the hawk. Moments later, another black SUV rolled from the backside of the house. It rolled towards us at a casual speed, causing none of the stir its predecessors did.

“No, Sergeant White,” Global said. “Push the perimeter back fifty feet, and wait for further orders.” Sergeant White relayed the command and the assembled tactical team complied with practiced efficiency, leaving the two of us alone in the clearing.

“Any funny business and I thump your skull,” he said, jabbing a finger so close, I thought he was going to demonstrate his meaning.

“Apogee, are you hearing this,” I said into my coms but got nothing in return.

“Oh, we already got your little buddy,” Global said. “The speedster ran into a trap on the backside. We’ll deal with her after we're done with you.”

“Nice little trap,” I said. “The only problem is you got the wrong fish. The speedster you're talking about is Apogee.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” Global said.

“Apogee,” I said. “Heard of her? She’s with me. We’re here to get Brutal. Why else do you think we would even bother coming here?”

“Kid, I stopped trying to figure out you villains long ago. Sit still and we’ll let the psych boys sort you out.”

A gust of wind exploded into us, revealing Apogee in our midst. The gunners remained outside the clearing, but with weapon still trained on us.

“Everyone stand down,” she said, with a sense of authority that disarmed the situation, calmed the armored men who immediately recognized her.

“Hello Apogee,” he said. “Sorry for the trouble.”

She flashed a disarming smile, “Good to see you out and about, again. We came to stop Brutal, but it looks like you have things well in hand.”

Global shrugged, looking around at the heavy armored guys surrounding me.

“The Senator’s not here is he” she said, and for the first time, I saw Global’s confidence waver.

“Global, if you know where he is -” her words swallowed by the SUV’s arrival. The front passenger door opened and a Secret Service agent hopped out, opening the rear passenger door and stepping away. A woman got out of the back, Senator Ashbourne’s wife and Pulsewave’s mother, Camilla Ashbourne. She wore a dignified black suit, thick blonde hair curled around her shoulders. She had the air of a California surfer girl gone gracefully into her middle age, combined with the sense of old money from a legacy of aristocracy. She was the big money of the power couple, with wealth going back to the days of US Steel and the Rockefellers and Carnegies.

Her eyes were a sparkling blue, almost violet, and on me the moment she left the car. She waded through the armored men like Moses parting the Red Sea, and disarmed Global’s objections with a glance, regarding me with an odd curiosity, like a scientist dissecting aliens in Area 51, with both a sense of fear and wonder.

“Camilla,” Apogee said, but stopped up short when those blue/violet pinpoints swiveled to her.

“Theodore and I are…concerned…with your behavior of late, Madelyne,” she said, the words conversational, but the tone steely. The statement bore no argument, their intent made fact by virtue of her saying them. “But you should know that we still hold out hope for your everlasting soul.”

And with that, Apogee was as good as dismissed.

Turning away from her, she favored me with disgust. I wasn’t an alien; I was a disease, virulent and microscopic, infecting her home. She straightened her back, a slight quaver in her hands stilling as she stepped within arm’s reach. Global tensed out of the corner of my eye, clenching his jaw and curling his fingers into a fist.

“I wanted to…talk to you,” Camilla said, her features a canvass of warring emotions she fought to control. “I wanted you to see my face.”

I wanted to apologize for all of it, but instead found myself paralyzed, my head bowed low in shame, impotent in the face of her grief and loss.

“Look at me,” she said, raising her voice ever so slightly, and I did. “You murdered my Barry.”

I nodded slowly and looked down, my head too heavy to linger under her contemptuous gaze.

“He was my only child. My boy,” she said, summoning the courage to take one more step into me, into my personal space. “And you killed him. You left his wife a widow and his children fatherless.”

A single tear streamed down her face and she jutted a nervous finger at me, “I want you to know that in his short life – in the few years he graced us with – Barry did more…for the good of Man…to help others…than you could ever blot out with the shadow of your evil.”

She wiped her face and stepped back, “You will find your justice in the end. I’m certain of that. There is a dark, hollow place where you will feel the pain you-”

I wanted to speak, to tell her she was right, that I regretted ever hooking up with Retcon, that the whole things was a mistake, but the words simply would not come. She studied me for a long second, leaning in closer, almost unconsciously, lines drawing across her brow, her eyes squinting as if to see me better.

“Oh, I see.”

Camilla straightened herself somewhat.

“You know the place I speak of,” she said, and I nodded. “Then you know what awaits you.”

She turned away from me and said, “Get this monster off my lawn.”

I watched her walk away, hoping she’d stop, hoping for a chance to explain, but of course she didn’t, and a moment later Global was in my face. Apogee shot to action, grasping my arm and turning me away.

“Okay, we’re leaving,” she said.

Global shook his head and put his hand on my other arm. “I don’t think so.”

His touch chilled all of the blood in my body at once. The hand on my arm seemed amorphous, a collection of cells bound together by a force beyond the flesh, each molecule doing its own individual dance. The hairs on my arm pricked to attention, my forearm tingling as his grip tightened.

“You heard the lady,” Apogee said. “She wants us off.”

“Forget it, Apogee,” I said, my head bowed low.

Letting my arm fall, she stared at me in horror. “Are you kidding?”

“He’s wanted,” Global said. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Dale, Jesus Christ,” she said, grabbing me again and turning me to face her. “Snap the fuck out of it. I need you, man.”

“Need me for what,” I said, shrugging her off. “You see they have everything under control here. I mean, fucking Global, man! What the hell am I going to do against Brutal, anyway, except give him more power than he’s ever dreamed of.”

Global let go of my arm, “You’re seriously after Brutal?”

“He’s with us, now, Global,” Apogee snapped. “And he knows Brutal’s going to try to kill the Senator today.”

He gave me a surprised look, stepping back, and started a discussion with Apogee, but I wasn’t listening, my attention on the black SUV as it climbed the hill to the pretty white mansion. I hoped she had gotten whatever satisfaction she could have from facing me, from telling me the truth; her son’s life was worth more than mine, and no matter what I did, it would always be.

Every shitty decision I ever made banged around the inside of my head as the SUV disappeared from view, every mistake, every misunderstanding, the total body of my experience, pooled into a thick, choking miasma ready to drown me. It wasn’t that I was tougher, or meaner, or more volatile. That wasn’t why I scared people. They were terrified of me because I learned the wrong lesson. I took the things I wanted from a situation, the things that fit my internal narrative, and discarded the rest.

Every.

Single.

Time.

Somewhere in the world there were two children who would never know their father, a wife who would always long for her husband’s touch, all for my need to prove I was an A-list villain.

The sun broke through the canopy shining bright and hot into the clearing. It would be a rainy afternoon in Maryland if the gathering storm clouds had their say, but basking in that clean sunlight, I thought again of that morning in Amsterdam, seated across from Brutal. He hadn’t taken a contentious approach with me, though I antagonized him. He wanted me to help him kill Ashbourne.

He would do it if he had the opportunity, but killing him wasn’t enough. Brutal could kill the Ashbourne from miles away, as he had shown in Amsterdam. His vendetta required proximity. He wanted Ashbourne to know, wanted to taste his fear before ending it, and it was nothing for him to murder countless others in the process. Saving him wouldn’t balance the scales, but that didn’t matter. I couldn’t let him do it again.

“The Senator’s not here,” I said, interrupting them both.

Apogee shook her head.

“But this was on his itinerary, right,” I said.

“The only thing for today,” Apogee said, and when she saw me looking around at the assembled firepower, she went through the same thought process I did. This was just a trap, a setup for Brutal to waltz in and get himself pounded to a pulp by one of the Original Seven. Only the big villain wasn’t as dumb as he looked.

We nodded to each other, arriving at the same realization.

“The Senator’s at the Dartmouth thing,” I said.

Global folded the sunglasses and pocketed them with fastidious, almost prissy gestures, then took four large steps away from us. Turning on a heel, he spread his legs shoulder width and drew his arms in close. The air took on a metallic taste as he powered up, and I was ready for an opening salvo, sure he would want me incapacitated, regardless of what happened next. Those liquid mercury eyes burned brightly enough that I had to avert my eyes, the energy he was gathering seemed to bleed from them as a low thrum emitted from his direction

And then he was gone.

“The fuck was that?” I said, a protective arm still covering my eyes.