Flutter (29 page)

Then, again, the soft voice spoke through the speaker system. “Who are you?” the voice asked. Abigail did not answer. “Why are you here for me? What did I do?”

Abigail didn’t want to answer but she couldn’t subdue the overpowering sense of curiosity she was feeling. She said, “They never tell us why. They just tell us who and when... sometimes how.”

“How old are you. 16? 17?”

“I’m not quite sure. 17, I think.” Abigail answered. And she truly did not know, but that’s what she had been told at the time.

“What’s your name?” Iris asked.

“They call me sister; sometimes daughter, but mostly, they call me...” Abigail stopped herself before she said too much. “This information is not for you to know.”

“What are they paying you?” Iris asked. “I’m curious to know what I am worth. Can you tell me that?”

Abigail answered, “You cannot bribe me out of this assignment. No amount of money will suffice. I live a very comfortable life. They pay me nothing extra for these services. I do it because I am told. I do it for pleasure. Nothing more. They tell me what to do, and I do exactly as they say.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Iris asked curiously.

“My creators. My Fathers. The people tell them who needs to be eliminated, and I eliminate them. I don’t know anything more than that,” Abigail wanted the conversation to end. She had never spoken to a target. She was told they were soulless and evil, that they had no purpose. This Iris woman seemed soft and innocent. She seemed polite and caring.
Maybe she is trying to trick me. Maybe she is trying to get into my head. 

Abby had never had a conversation with a target. She wondered what they were thinking. The most she ever heard them say was, “Please don’t,” or “I can pay you,” or “Pater, ignosce mihi,” but not much more. Most of it was begging or screaming from agonizing pain, – the only sounds she craved to hear. Iris was confident and realistic. She feared and respected Abigail. She would probably get on her knees and accept certain death rather than prolong the inevitable with begging and drooling. 

“If I open the door, will you kill me?” Iris asked.

“I am not to return until I have your head in that bag,” Abigail said without flinching. She was being honest.

Iris said, “I appreciate you sharing this information with me and I will never speak of it again. I appreciate your honesty. And I appreciate you. You've shown me a discipline I have never known. You also showed me that my life is bigger than these four walls, and it is short, and I need to make amends with some people and reconnect with others because I would never want to be as lonely as I am now. As lonely as you must be. And since you have taught me a lesson, I will also tell you that this panic room has a timer on it. If it is locked for 96 hours without reopening, an alarm will sound, I will push a red button signaling danger, and then my men will come for me within 20 minutes. All 200 will come. These men will attack you, and they will succeed in killing you. They will be here in five minutes. I am only telling you because I feel sorry for you. You have an evil inside of you that is almost unnatural, but for some reason I feel it is not your fault.”

Abigail stood on her feet. She believed Iris. She turned her face away from Iris’ view and walked toward the door. Her eyes turned blue and she listened. She could hear vehicles and a helicopter approaching. Her eyes turned brown again. She felt desperate.

“I will tell them you fled after a day or two. Here!” Iris tossed a bag full of food out of opening. “Take this and run. You will not kill me today.”

“No need to lie to them. They will not find me. But you will die, Iris. I cannot stop this. I have failed, but they will find you and eliminate you.”

“Who wants me dead?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then what should I do? How can I change this?” Iris pleaded.

“I do not know that side of the business. I never negotiate; but whatever you are doing or whatever you
were
going to do... don’t do it. In the meantime, run. They will regroup and come again once I am gone.”

“Then I will have a head start.” Iris then asked, “What will they do to you for failing to kill me?”

“They will starve and beat me for a week. If I live, I will retrain and promise never to fail again.” Abigail heard the chopper closing in. She wrapped her bag and took the bucket of her urine and poured it onto the bodies. She then poured gasoline on the bodies and the bucket and lit them on fire. Before she left, she went back over to the panic room where Iris could see her and said, “By the way, you will find that your enemy is always someone you think you can trust. Start looking there. Good luck.” She exited through a window in the rear of the building and ran for 10 miles south. She sent a signal and was picked up within the hour from an old gas station on a dirt road.

******

As Roger and Abigail conversed in her room, a subtle breeze cooled the sweat on their shoulders. She told him the story of Iris. He could tell that this was someone she cared for, probably the first and only person until he and Frankie had come along. He rested his hand on her knee as he sat next to her on the bed. He said, “I know that you can kill without a second thought. But, are you a killer? Would you consider yourself a killer?”

“Of course I’m a killer, Roger. You saw what I am capable of,” she said as she picked at her fingernails. 

Roger plucked a small feather from her ear that must have come from the pillow. She smiled as he flicked it away. “Abigail. You were defending us. That’s different. A killer is cold blooded and heartless. I don’t see that in you. Just because you can kill doesn’t make you a killer, Abigail.”

“Roger. The word killer doesn’t truly describe who or what I am. Yes. I
am
a killer. And a thief! A liar! A manipulator. I have done some insidious things. Being cold blooded and heartless are just the side effects of years of enduring beatings, being told what to do... and stealing the souls of the innocent. I don’t even know why I killed all those people. I just did it. I did whatever I was told to do.” She couldn’t look him in the eye.

Roger felt bad and said, “But you are not who you were, Abigail. The Abigail I know is nothing like the person you describe. And you don’t
have
to kill. You have a choice.”

Abigail giggled and said, “Roger. You don’t get it. I am a byproduct of something that cannot be undone. I am who I am, Roger. Nothing will change that. I feel pleasure from killing. When I killed those men in the alley, I fed that hunger. My nightmares ceased only when that hunger was fed. It’s what you would call... withdrawal. It’s painful. The smell of fresh blood and the squeal of dying men should not be stimulating to anyone.”

Roger understood “withdrawal,” but only as far as caffeine headaches that resulted from drinking coke and coffee every day. He continued with another question, “Why were you running away then? Why leave?”

Abigail thought briefly about the night she had run away and ended up in Boston. Her memories played backwards in her mind. Things she hadn’t thought about or remembered in a long time came forward. Abigail stood up and walked to the other side of the small room. She leaned on the table and said, “Because I broke the rules, Roger.” She then told Roger the story of Iris Campbell. She told him every explicit detail she could remember. When she had failed at that task, her creators were very disappointed. They limited her food rations to water and wafers once a day. They moved her from her apartment into an 8 x 8 room and beat her for an hour a day. This torture lasted for ten days. On the tenth day she was returned back to her apartment where she slept for two days and healed from her wounds. She knew they would make a second attempt at killing Iris, but they could not find her. As far as she knew, Iris had totally fallen off the face of the earth. She knew that Iris must have taken her advice.
Run!

Three years went by and Iris Campbell was discovered in Montreal. Her father had passed away, and she attended the funeral. Abigail figured Iris didn’t care anymore. Abigail wasn’t put on the assignment, but she knew it was coming. She explained to Roger that she felt compassion for Iris and wanted to give her a second chance. She snuck out, put together a package for Iris and slipped into her motel room. She drugged and kidnapped Iris, taking her 1000 miles west before she placed her in a motel. When Iris woke, she was frightened, she thought Abigail was there to kill her, but Abigail was there to protect her.

Abigail handed her an orange and winked. That was when Iris Campbell understood. Abigail spoke quickly and told her if she wanted to live, she had to do everything that Abigail told her to do. Abigail gave Iris strict written instructions to follow before she took off for good. They set up a communication system for emergencies only. Abigail slipped away into the cold misty night. She returned a few days later and realized she had been caught. Abigail went rogue against the agency but eventually, they caught up with her.

Abigail told Roger, “Iris was the first stranger I ever felt love for. Frankie was the second and... you. You are the third. I don’t know what I would do if I were responsible for losing you.” She fought the emotions that flooded into her body and turned to the window. Roger stood up and held her from behind. She closed her eyes accepting the warm embrace. He smelled her hair and took in the moment.

“Have you lied to me? Or Frankie?” Roger asked.

“No. Never. I never would.” She turned around, looking Roger in the eyes, and said, “I promise.” Abigail put her slender hand on Roger’s face. He kissed her on her scared eyebrow, then on the right side of her face between her nose and cheek, then on the corner of her mouth. Her heart beat against her chest like drums. He kissed her again, directly on the lips and she immediately felt something similar to the feeling of drunkenness.

No one had ever kissed her and meant it. Abigail had pretended to be in love with many targets, dressed as a hooker or dolled up in gowns for corporate banquets. She kissed a few men in offices who were looking for a fling with a hot seductress only to realize she was there to put a bullet in their head or knife in their gut. This kiss was different.
He’s in love with me.
It was everything she needed, wanted and hated at the same time. It was too much. She needed a diversion and thought about something, abruptly changing the subject. She asked, “Did you ever hear back from your mother?” She turned away leaving Roger holding the air.

“Now that I think about it, no. I haven’t.” Roger looked at his phone.

“When was the last time you sent her a message?” Abby asked.

Roger answered, “30 minutes ago, but she should have responded by now. I sent her four messages before that one. Maybe she’s sleeping.”

Abigail said, “Maybe. But let’s still go check up on her.” Abigail started packing up her stuff to go with Roger to his house.

Roger said, “No. I’ll go. You stay put. I don’t want you out there like that.”

Abigail said, “You’ve been supporting me all day. I’m going. I’m not gonna hide here. If they are looking for me, then they will find me no matter what I do. I wouldn’t want them to find me here anyway.”

Roger, “So, no more hiding?”

She said, “No. Let them come. I’m not running anymore.” She grabbed Paltee’s journals and hid them in a corner. She grabbed the bag with the suit in it and a few other things, including a knife. She flipped it around her palm before she put it in her side pocket. They put on their jackets and went down to the main floor.

On the main floor Frankie, Marty and Frita were working. Frankie saw Abigail and Roger heading out. As he finished ringing up a drink he said, “Hey guys. Kitchen,” signaling the two to meet him in the kitchen before they head out. They all gather around the stove area.

“Where’s Larry?” Roger asked.

“He got a call and stepped out. He said he’ll be back. What’s going on with you two?” Frankie asked.

They didn’t answer.

He said, “I don’t know what you guys are doing. I mean, I try to talk to you, but... you don’t tell me anything. So, I’m gonna leave it alone for now and get to my main point. Larry and I had a long talk and I need to know what’s going on. I wanna give you time to sort things out, but I’ve had to call in help for the past few days, which is cool, but I can’t operate efficiently if I’m not sure when you guys will peek in. I have a business to run. I don’t mean to sound funny but, Abigail, my heart tells me you aren’t coming back. One day you will close that door and never return...”

“I don’t mean to screw up your business plans. My head isn’t... together. But I understand what you’re saying. Take me off the clock for good. I can’t say what’s going to happen and...”

Roger was shocked, “Are you leaving?”

“If I have to leave, I will.” Abigail sadly had to say. She adjusted the bag draped over her shoulder.

Frankie was sad and said, “You’ll always have a key here, Abby.” He looked at Roger and said, “You get yourself straight. I’ll get you back on the clock for... how does Monday sound?” Roger nodded. Frankie said, “Good!” as he slapped the truck key on the counter and walked out with a lump in his throat. He was angry, but he needed to calm down. He took out his cell phone and called Larry, but there was no answer.

It was getting late. Things were quieting down in the previously noise filled, buzzing station. Finch, Brown and Duffy were in the police station reviewing evidence. Detective Tammy received the Alan Jiang autopsy report from a friend in Portland. The email and scans had just come in. Tammy printed the reports and pictures, and then posted the pictures up on a bulletin board. She pointed out the similarities in the dismembered bodies. They were all stunned. “The consistency is remarkable! The power it takes to rip these bodies like this... they look like they were done by hand. If that’s true, we’re talking about a superior amount of strength,” Tammy said as she pointed at the pictures of the bodies.

“But how are Benson and Jiang connected to the men in the alley?” Finch asked.