The Hunted Assassin (18 page)

Guzman leaned back in the chair and cursed at the unavoidable delay in communication.

“I understand that you’re upset, Mr. Guzman. But please know that—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses, Brutus. We’ve known each other far too long for lies. I want results. If you cannot handle my simple requests, perhaps I need to reevaluate who it is that I associate myself with in your GSA.”

After a longer than expected period of silence, Guzman began to flip random switches in an attempt to clear the connection. “Brutus! Did you understand my last—”

“That won’t be necessary, Pablo,” Brutus said, using Guzman’s first name, which he rarely did. “All is not lost.”

“Yes, I’m listening,” Guzman said anxiously.

“Although Rasner’s team has been assembled and they are in route to their ship, their approach and plan have weaknesses,” Brutus said. “First off, his team consists of only himself and three additional members. There will be no further support from the GSA. Secondly, the ship that he’s been given is of a new design that might be of particular interest to you. It has been equipped with top of the line technologies that will make them virtually undetectable unless you’re staring out a portal window.”

“I understand your point about the small team, but you lost me on the undetectable ship. How is that a weakness?” Guzman demanded.

“You see, unless you have the specific code for their individual ship, it is very much untraceable.”

“And you have this specific code?” Guzman prompted eagerly.

“Yes, of course. I have the code for their ship, along with the identities of the entire team. I’m unable to prevent them from departing, but once they’ve launched … all an approaching ship would have to do is key the code into their targeting computer, and our problem can be eliminated,” Brutus said, confident that his news was positive.

Guzman listened intently as Brutus explained the procedure. After jotting down an unfathomably long digital code, he folded up the paper and held it firmly in his hand.

“Assuming that the code is valid, you may have just avoided a very unpleasant
circumstance
for you and your family, Brutus,” Guzman said, accentuating the mole’s code name. “It would be quite unfortunate if our ongoing relationship was suddenly made public.”

“I assure you, the code is valid. I presume you have a team in place?” Brutus asked.

Guzman nodded. “Yes, yes. Despite losing twelve men on Taloo Station, and an additional four in Luna City, I have plenty of warriors willing take their places.”

There was yet another long pause before Brutus replied.

“Unfortunately, more of your men were lost on earth today as well. I was confident that the hit was to be a success, but unforeseen circumstances changed the outcome.”

Guzman unfolded the paper and read through the information once again. He smiled. “Those were mere peasants. They were local workers from my home village, and the loss of their lives means nothing to me. All I want is my revenge. I want Jaxon Rasner dead!”

Guzman disconnected the connection without waiting for Brutus to respond. He dropped the headset onto the desk and walked out of the communications office. As he reached his bedroom, he slipped the folded paper into the pocket of his robe. He had plenty of time to deal with that later. First, he had unfinished business to attend to.

“Tosha,” Guzman said playfully. “Where are you?”

29

After several hours of driving across mountainous terrain and finally into the vast plains, Jaxon could see the spaceport in the distance. They were about twenty minutes out, and his mind had not stopped thinking about the relentless attack on his life.
Besides Howe and Evans, who else had known about the location?
Jaxon looked sideways at his travel companion, Miles Oliver, but quickly dismissed the suspicion because he would hardly have known about the depths of his own cover.
Unless he was working with somebody else.

“Hey, Miles. When did they recruit you for this … mission?” Jaxon asked, hoping to utilize their last bit of privacy in hopes of obtaining some information.

“A few months back, maybe?” Oliver replied, not taking his eyes off the road ahead of them.

“That a question? Or, are you just not sure about your own immediate history?” Jaxon asked, noting that his companion was not particularly wordy.

Oliver turned toward Jaxon, his face deadpan, and said, “A few months back,” annunciating the end of the statement.

Jaxon decided to let him be with the questioning but had another thought to get him talking. “Why don’t you use that radio in the glove box and reach out to someone? I don’t care who, but just find out what happened back at the safe house. I’d like to know if Evans and Howe made it out safely.”

Oliver opened the glove compartment and withdrew the small, hand-held radio. He held it up to his mouth, but before pressing the call button, he looked at Jaxon.

“I’m confused,” Oliver said. “Why do you want me to find out if the director made it out safely when he left the compound more than an hour before the attack?”

“That’s news to me,” Jaxon said. “I must have been down in the sublevels when he left. At least not everyone was in danger during the attack.” As the words left Jaxon’s mouth, he began to wonder if the timing of Howe’s departure was a coincidence or something else entirely.

“Who else was at the compound?” Jaxon asked.

“Besides you and me, and the assistant director, I think there were a few staff members in the sublevels. But how many and who they were, I’m not sure. Do you still want me to call in?”

Jaxon downshifted as he came up on a tight turn then headed directly toward the spaceport. “Yeah, why don’t you? Perry, I mean the assistant director, and I go way back. I’d like to know if he’s safe. Ask about the rest of our team as well. Evans said that he’d redirect them to the spaceport. I’m just not sure if he got that message out or not.”

Over the next 10 minutes, Oliver did as Jaxon asked, retrieving as much information about the incident as possible. At the end of multiple radio conversations, it was clear that the assistant director did, in fact, survive the ordeal. Oliver also learned that contact was in fact made with Francisco and Camille. They were also advised that the director had arrived at the spaceport just moments ago, surprising everyone on site.

Oliver tossed the radio back into the glove compartment as Jaxon maneuvered the vehicle into a parking stall along the perimeter of the security fence.

Grabbing their gear from the cargo bed, Jaxon and Oliver made their way to security, Jaxon’s gut turning the entire time. He wasn’t sure how Camille would react to his presence. He was relieved, however, that he could be present when she learned about his mortality.

Taking his ID back from the guard, they stepped through the gate and into the facility. Jaxon hoped that he’d be able to meet with her alone—before the rest of the team was assembled—to allow him time to explain the situation. But, with the director already on site, he doubted he’d have the opportunity.

As they rounded the corner toward their designated hanger, Jaxon caught sight of their assumed spaceship. The bay door was open, and just inside was the most advanced flying ship that he’d ever seen. It was aerodynamic and sleek in appearance. The surface was practically free of any screws or rivets. It was as it were formed out of a single skin. The color was charcoal gray and had a matte finish.

It took several moments for either Oliver or Jaxon to realize that they’d stopped in their tracks and were staring in fascination. “Pretty incredible, wouldn’t you say?” Jaxon asked.

Oliver remained silent but nodded his head in agreement.

“You took the words right out of my mouth, Miles,” Jaxon said with a smile.

As they walked into the hangar, Jaxon noticed several men in uniform surrounding the ship, assault weapons slung over their shoulders. At the base of the boarding ramp, Jaxon caught sight of Camille for the first time and his heart skipped a beat. Before he was close enough for her to notice he was there, she was already climbing up the ramp. Behind her, the director stood, solemnly, with his hands clasped behind his back. Jaxon and Oliver approached.

“Ah, you made it!” Howe said excitedly. “I understand there was a … skirmish at the safe house. I’m glad to see that you two made it out alive.”

“You’d think that by now, after countless attempts on my life, they’d realize that I’m a tough man to kill,” Jaxon said. “And Miles here, well, let’s just say that he appears to be equally indestructible,” Jaxon said, slapping him on the back.

A blank expression remained on Oliver’s face before he stepped up onto the ramp and disappeared into the ship.

“Strange, that guy,” Jaxon said. “He’s really the best that you could get?”

“Let’s not recapitulate things that have already been discussed. How about we introduce you to the rest of your team?” Howe said, more of a statement than a question.

“About that, I was thinking—”

Before Jaxon could finish his plea of talking with Camille alone first, the director had already started up the ramp. Jaxon fell in behind him, taking a deep breath to prepare for what was certain to be an awkward situation.

30

Jaxon followed the director up the boarding ramp, which landed at what appeared to be the centermost part of the ship. The main hold. It gave access to all parts of the compact ship, much like a central hub. Along the perimeter of the oversized bay, Jaxon noticed multiple cargo lockers intermixed with various access doors. Opposite the boarding ramp was another ramp, leading up to what was most likely the control center of the ship. On either side of the ramp, ship’s ladders dropped down to lower gangways. To the right and left of the boarding ramp, additional ladders led up to a metal grate platform that circled the entire holding bay. Off of that platform were several more doors, most likely leading to engineering and the weaponry. The entire vessel seemed smartly designed, and if it hadn’t been for his bundled-up nerves about seeing Camille, Jaxon would certainly be giddy about taking the ship out on its first mission.

The director stopped in the middle of the hold and re-clasped his hands behind his back. There were nearly a half dozen other people working about, emptying supply crates or programming the various control panels scattered around the bay. Camille stood at the far end of the bay with her back toward them. She appeared to be in conversation with another man, who looked up just then and recognized the director standing, stoically, seemingly waiting for someone to call attention to his presence. The man broke off the conversation with Camille and cleared his throat, straightening his back. Camille noticed the change in his demeanor and turned to look at the source.

A sudden urge to vomit overcame Jaxon, but he swallowed hard, forcing the bile back into his stomach. He couldn’t remember being this nervous in his entire life. He watched intently as Camille turned, her eyes first locking onto the director, then onto himself.

Jaxon had never forgotten how beautiful her tanned skin was, kissed from the sun above. After all those years of not seeing her, he was pleased to see that some things never change. The toned complexion, however, did not last. The blood drained from Camille’s face as recognition set in. Camille remained frozen in place, unable to move.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’d like to thank you all for your efforts in making this ship flight ready on such short notice. If you’re not part of the crew, please exit the ship now,” Howe said, watching Camille’s reaction to their presence.

The cargo bay erupted into hushed murmurs and shuffling of feet as the various support personnel completed their tasks at hand and made for the rear exit way. As the final technician stepped onto the exit ramp, Director Howe continued.

“Fantastic. It looks like we’re all here now. Unfortunately, Assistant Director Evans will not be able to see you off. He … got held up back at the safe house, but he sends best wishes on a fruitful mission to you all.”

Jaxon continued to gaze into Camille’s eyes, Camille still frozen in time. The man standing next to her stepped forward, blocking their eye contact.

“This is our mission leader, I presume?” the man said, moving toward Jaxon.

“Yes, that’s right,” Jaxon said, stepping around Howe. “I’m Jaxon Rasner, and you must be Clay Francisco?” he said, extending his hand.

Clay took Jaxon’s hand and pumped it vigorously. “I am. But, your name? Is it—”

“Yes, I’m
that
Jaxon Rasner. Rumors of my death have been overly exaggerated.”

“I … I can’t believe it. Is it really you?” Camille said, stuttering hysterically. “I was at your funeral.”

Jaxon’s nausea finally subsiding, he moved toward Camille. “It’s me, Cam, and I know what you must be feeling right now.”

“How? How can you even? How … how are you even alive? You’re dead, they said, they … said you were dead.” Tears brimmed in Camille’s eyes.

Jaxon stepped closer, minding not to crowd her too soon. “I know what they said, and none of it’s true. I’m here, and I’m alive. And—”

“Stop! Just stop it,” Camille screamed and rushed out of the main hold, nearly falling in the process. Jaxon watched in horror as she vanished.