Hellbent (Orphan X #3)(35)

Evan let the weight of the hot barrel press into the hollow of the man’s throat. The flesh sizzled. “Not improving your situation, hired man.”

“Hang on! I overheard Thornhill saying something about a female Orphan. Candy something. Orphan V.”

At this, Evan’s face tightened.

“Please.” Saliva sheeted between the man’s lips. “That’s all I know. I told you everything. Can I … will you let me live?”

“You were dead the minute Van Sciver told you my name.” Evan pulled the trigger.

He heard a creak behind him and pivoted, dropping the empty shotgun and drawing his ARES.

He found himself aiming at Joey.

She stood in the doorway, surveying the wreckage. A flush had come up beneath her smooth brown cheeks. The shack smelled of blood iron and the insides of men. Through the lingering smoke, her emerald eyes glowed, unguarded, overwhelmed.

“I told you to stay in the car.”

“I’m fine.”

“Pull the car around. Hurry.”

She stepped back and was gone.

He flung a corpse off the central table and rifled through the items beneath. Coffee cups, battery packs, a half-eaten sub. Useless. Beneath a pack of black gel pens, he found a red-covered notebook. Seizing it, he thumbed through the stiff pages. Nothing inside.

He tossed it, moved to the chipped counter em-dashing half of the east wall. Coffeepot, microwave, utility sink. The cabinet beneath held rusted pipes, water spots, a crusted bottle of Drano.

He turned in his crouch, giving the room a last, hurried scan.

Blood dripped from the edge of the table. A strip of duct tape shimmered beneath the lip.

A laptop, adhered to the table’s underside.

He tore it free and turned for the door. As he stepped over what was left of the broad-shouldered man, something chimed. Evan paused to fish a familiar-looking Samsung Galaxy from the dead man’s pocket.

He used the man’s shirt to wipe a crimson smear off the screen. Location services were toggled off, GPS disabled.

Out front he heard the Subaru squeal to the curb.

Keeping the phone, he exited through the fortified steel door. As it swung open, he heard the faint slosh of water within.

It was a nice security measure, if you thought about it.





23

Damaged Goods

As Joey sped away, Evan checked out the Samsung. It appeared to be wiped of data, holding only the operating system and a single app.

Signal.

The encrypted comms software showed several incoming contact attempts.

Sirens wailed, a squadron of cop cars rocketing past one block over on Lombard Street, blues and reds lasering through the night air.

Joey had gotten them quickly away from the pest-control shop. She darted nervous glances at the seemingly endless procession. The cruisers were visible only at intersections and alleys, strobing into view behind warehouses and buildings.

“We’re fine,” Evan said. “Get on the 5.”

“And then?”

“Head north.”

Signal only worked over Wi-Fi, but—God bless Portland’s waxed mustaches, artisanal beers, and municipal benefits—they remained under the umbrella of free citywide service.

The sirens reached an earsplitting pitch and then faded quickly.

Joey blew out a breath, letting it puff her cheeks.

Evan kept his eyes on the Samsung, waiting for it to chime.

Joey said, “What are you—”

It chimed.

Two words appeared: EVENTFUL AZURE.

Joey glanced over at him. Her eyes held the frantic alertness of cornered prey. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

Evan tapped the screen.

Van Sciver’s voice came through. “Code.”

“You don’t need to bother with that anymore,” Evan said.

A long, static-free pause ensued. Van Sciver finally spoke again. “How did you hack this connection?”

“I didn’t,” Evan said. “I hacked your men instead.”

He let Van Sciver digest that fact. Forty percent of his manpower, gone. Freelancers were replaceable, sure, but getting them vetted, up to operational standards, and read in on an Orphan mission took time. And time was a luxury Evan wasn’t going to allow him. Van Sciver had lit the fuse the instant he’d put Jack in that Black Hawk.

Evan checked to see if the Wi-Fi connection had dropped, but they were still in range.

Van Sciver finally replied. “X.”

“Y.”

“I didn’t figure you’d hang around the area. After you surface, you always go to ground.”

“Things are different now.”

“Ah, right. The old saw—‘This time it’s personal.’ I thought you were better than that.”

Evan let the line hum.

“Jack jumped out of that helo himself,” Van Sciver said. “You watched it with me. We didn’t push him.”

“But you were going to.”

“Yes,” Van Sciver said. “We were.”

Evan pointed through the windshield, and Joey veered up the on-ramp, accelerating onto the 5.

“Can’t blame me, can you?” Van Sciver said. “Hell, I learned it from you. To be ruthless.”

“From me?”