Evenfall (51 page)

"I don't suppose anyone ever told you how I met Sin's father?"

The question seemed like a non sequitur but Boyd decided not to question anything. "No, sir."

Carhart nodded and continued to stare out the window. "After the war began, the military was a mess. Our Commander in Chief was dead, the Vice President was dead, the Secretary of Defense... dead. The Pentagon was in shambles." He was quiet for a moment.

"I began to work for the Agency as a field agent at first, quickly moving up because of my military background. I met Sin's father here." There was the hint of a smile in his voice, although when Carhart turned to Boyd again it wasn't entirely visible on his face.

"He was such a cocky fuck. I disliked him at first, especially because everyone else loved him. I was quiet and he was outgoing, I was a loner and he was so damn charismatic. He
baited
me and we'd argue. But we worked together for awhile and he saved my life on more than one occasion. It made me feel worthless at first. I was the one with the military background, the apt pupil, and he was some scruffy street guy,
self-trained
and brash, learned everything he knew from street fighting... but yet he was better than me."

Boyd thought Sin and his father sounded quite opposite, other than the brash part, but he said nothing.

"There was a time when things were especially bad. The government was still picking up the pieces and everyone was an enemy. Emilio was sent on long solo missions, assassination missions, he'd disappear for months on undercover stints. Our main form of communication to him was via e-mail for two years."

Carhart paused and stared at Boyd calmly. "He was to come in for a debriefing after the completion of a long series of assassinations. It was interesting because Emilio had a certain flare in everything he did. He had a dark sense of humor and it was always evident in his work. But for some reason in his last few missions, there was a distinct lack of that personalization in his mission reports." He paused again. "Do you know why, Boyd?"

Boyd watched Carhart with an unreadable expression, not answering at first. Ryan said that Sin's father trained him, and that he came in when he was fourteen, but he didn't know if it was directly related.

"Because Sin helped him?" he ventured.

Carhart smiled. "You could say that."

He walked around his desk and leaned against the front of it. "We expected Emilio for the debriefing but instead we got his son. In walked little Vega with his father's laptop, fourteen years old, skinny as a reed and with his father's same intense green eyes. We still don't have complete
Intel
on the events that occurred during that time but as far as we gathered, Emilio concealed his son's existence from us for six years as he trained him and took him on assassination missions. It seemed as though he'd been planning to get us to recruit the boy but it didn't happen exactly as he had planned."

Carhart paused for a moment and shook his head. "We're not sure how Emilio died. We never saw a body, never got a straight answer, but it seems that he'd been dead a year before the debriefing and Sin had completed the assignments on his own."

"Why did he come in?" Boyd asked. "Couldn't he have ignored the summons?"

Carhart spread his hands. "I don't know. I don't even know why he completed the missions after Emilio died. A normal child would have... run away, I imagine." He looked away, mouth drawing down in a frown. "Emilio was my friend. But when Sin arrived here, he was half the age of any other agent and ten times as skilled a killer. What Emilio did to get him to that point, I can only wonder about."

Looking down at the panel in his hands, Boyd nodded for lack of anything better to do.

"I always knew it was a bad idea but no one listened to me at that time," Carhart said with a sigh. "I had no real authority. They couldn't pass up so good a killer, especially one they thought they could mold from childhood. They didn't care about his age. Or the fact that there was something... wrong with him." He shook his head. "Sin was always different. It seemed that he knew nothing else but violence; it seemed that he could react in no other way than with violence. He was like a dog that had been trained only to fight. He had no bark. It was all bite."

The general looked into Boyd's eyes again. "The people here didn't help. They knew he was mentally unstable but still they used him and while they used him, they ridiculed him. They labeled him as a freak because he was so young and such an adept killer; they sent him to murder but flinched at him because he did it so well and without any emotion. He got older, colder, more violent. They treated him like a wild animal that could never be tamed, even if they could force him to do what they wanted at times. I'll never understand the depth of his illness or the triggers of his behavior, but as his violence began to spread outside of missions... the Agency began to worry. He was too skilled an assassin to give up but at the same time he was wild and out of control. They began devising ways to control him without having to get rid of him."

Carhart's hands curled into fists and once again, he looked away with narrowed cerulean eyes.

"I'm ashamed to say that I've continued in that vein. I'm ashamed of the box; of the collar. But you have to understand that at this point, after all of the years of his instability growing while untreated, it seemed like it was too late. It seemed as though he was too far gone to ever come back. And although he'd done some heinous things, I knew it was because of his upbringing and I couldn't blame him entirely. I convinced Connors to give him another chance because I can't stand to see him in that box, where his claustrophobia pushes him further into insanity. So I devised a plan. I gave him the collar, I tried to do something to let him have some freedom. I didn't think it would work, I didn't think you would last as his partner, but for awhile it seemed..."

Carhart trailed off for a moment, his expression growing weary.

"For awhile I began to see a side of him that I'd never seen before. But now for some reason it's gone. Now he's back to being cold. He told me that if I didn't put him back in the box, he would make me sorry. That he would force me to do it." Carhart narrowed his eyes.

"I need to know why."

Boyd felt caught by Carhart's stare; by the history he laid out. And by the information. Sin had actually said that? But he feared the box. Why would he ever make that threat to Carhart?

It didn't take a genius to note the difference between the way Sin had been before that night at Boyd's house and the way he acted afterward. In the past, Sin had wavered between shutting down any progress and moving forward with whatever strangely comfortable thing they'd managed to form between them.

But on that night, somewhere between Sin giving him the necklace and Boyd walking out on him, things changed. Sin had somehow found out about Lou; maybe he'd read whatever background information he'd once claimed he could read any time he wanted. And he'd managed to somehow track down Jared, presumably kill him, and return the missing ring.

Boyd didn't know how Sin knew about the ring but he assumed the Agency had found out about it. Given that Lou's parents had been high profile people, and the fact that Vivienne had already been at the Agency, it wasn't surprising if they'd discovered information Boyd wouldn't have thought could have spread beyond that street. He'd never told anyone about the stolen ring so he could only assume the Agency had found out later through something related to Jared. The thought was unnerving.

Boyd didn't know Sin's motivations for why he'd done it, what he'd expected of Boyd in response, or whether he'd understood from Boyd's reaction about how much it all had upset him. But with the tension and distance that had grown between them afterward, it was clear that it was contributing to the way Sin was acting now.

"We--" He stopped. What could he possibly say? "Something happened and it created some distance between us. He may be upset about that."

Carhart's brow creased and his lips pursed as he stared down at Boyd. "And what is this something that occurred?"

"Just a miscommunication," Boyd said dismissively. His stomach clenched at the idea of Carhart pressing it; of him demanding to know what it had been about. "Which isn't unusual in all honesty, given our history."

Carhart was silent for a moment before shaking his head with a sigh. He didn't seem like he wanted to give up that easily, but for some reason he decided to let it go.

"Whatever it is, I should hope it gets sorted it. Especially in light of what is going on now. And now I'm going to get to the real reason I called you in here. What happened to your remote? I know the chip has either malfunctioned or been destroyed."

Boyd was caught off-guard by the question. He had almost completely forgotten about the remote, and he certainly didn't think that anyone would be able to know that anything happened to it. In retrospect, it did make sense that it would be monitored; Sin was only controllable as long as the remote was active.

"Ah," Boyd said after a moment. "It..." He wanted to lie, but he couldn't bring himself to do so to a commanding officer. Especially not after Carhart had seemed so angry, and certainly not after he took the time to explain his viewpoint to Boyd.

"I think it broke."

"It broke," Carhart repeated flatly. There was a stretch of silence. "I didn't mention the remote before because Sin had showed considerable improvement in his behavior. But now that he has gone right back to where he'd been before, I feel it is imperative that you have it."

He paused and seemed to be searching for the right words. "I can see that you are like me, that you don't just consider him a tool. I also understand that you two have become close. At the same time, you have to be on your guard. Considering the state he is in at the moment, I strongly advise you accept a replacement." He walked over to his desk and set a new remote on top of it. "And use your best judgment about its usage."

Boyd stared at the remote for a long moment. Carhart may be right about Sin's instability, but Boyd had managed to stop him before without the collar. He didn't feel that he was about to use it now. Still, whether or not he used it didn't matter. He didn't have a good reason for turning it down to Carhart; all he had to do was not use it. He picked up the remote and put it in his pocket without saying anything.

Carhart nodded shortly, all business again. "Sin is with Cynthia at the moment, getting ready. I suggest you do the same. Your flight is in five hours." He turned towards his desk again but added something else before Boyd could turn to go.
"Sin is not the only one you should be worried about on this assignment. Thierry is a good source of information but he has a knack for putting us through hell in order to get it. Regardless of that, we must have it. The information he's hinting at could turn this entire war with Janus, Boyd. It could change everything. And I need you to do whatever it takes to get it."

There was another pause but not one long enough to leave Boyd time for questions or comments. "Good luck."

"Yes, sir," Boyd said, and left the room without another word.

He went back to the conference room only long enough to find out where Cynthia was located, and head over. The receptionist informed him that he would be needing minimal "physical work" and sent him to a room where they ended up giving him a haircut. They didn't cut off much length but they gave it some style, something he'd been utterly lacking for most of his life.

After that he was sent to another room where it turned out that they'd designated suitable clothing for him already. He was told to change into a charcoal-colored suit and a button down shirt, while two more outfits were carefully packed for him in preparation, as well as clothing for Sin. Apparently Unit 16 was yet another pit stop that field agents made before a mission, just like Artillery. However Unit 16 specialized in undercover outfits and disguises, not weaponry.

The wait for Sin was at least forty minutes, but when the other man finally reappeared he'd undergone a considerable transformation. For the first time since they'd met, Sin was clean shaven and the straggly remains of red dye from whatever assignment had called for it were gone. His hair was shorter although it still reached the nape of his neck, but black hair escaped the style they'd tried to give it and hung in his eyes. He was wearing a black suit that was fitted to his lanky body, and a crisp white shirt beneath that had been unbuttoned at the collar.

Even with the awkwardness between them, Boyd found his gaze lingering on his partner's appearance. Sin looked good. Really good. It was strange seeing him so cleaned up; almost like he wasn't the same person. Boyd liked the scruffier look Sin usually sported but there was definitely something to be said about the way his eyes and body seemed to stand out even more when he looked like this.

He felt a slight pang at the thought combined with the expressionless way Sin glanced past him. He found himself wondering what Sin would look like with one of his more approachable expressions when he was dressed like this. At that thought, he wanted everything between them to be fixed as soon as possible.

But when he thought about fixing it, he thought about talking to Sin, which made him think of that night, which brought to mind the ring, which still brought a clenching dread to his stomach and throat, which made his voice leave him before he could even think of anything to say in the first place. It was a cycle he suspected he'd go through a few more times until he could find a way out of it.