"The
old man found O'Conner."
Philip
looked up from the report he'd been reading as the tall
man shut the door behind him. It was one of his best
agents, and biggest secrets; a man with no scruples
who was best for the dirtiest job. Known only as Agent
A within the Legacy, his real name was secret, known
by only a few and never spoken out loud. Philip called
him The Snake.
"I
thought I told you not to come here." Philip said through
clenched as the man folded his length into one of the
interminably uncomfortable office chair across from
his desk.
"For
God's sake, Philip, it's safe. Don't you think I would
check it out before I came in? You know me better than
that."
The
Snake in the chair reached in his jacket and pulled
out a slim silver case. Flipping it open, he pulled
out a cigarette and put it between his thin lips.
"Don't
smoke in here." Philip said sharply.
The
Snake's eyes grew cold and he put the cigarette back
in the case.
"You're
getting sloppy. How could you let DuPre and O'Conner
end up in the same country, let alone the same town?"
His
slight German accent became more pronounced and Philip
knew he was getting angry. No one liked it when a mission
was compromised, and his old friend took it worse than
anyone did.
"Listen,
it's not an issue. I've moved O'Conner to the states
for a new mission. He's as far from Kazakhstan as he
can get. DuPre is dead, and his secret died with him."
"What
about Paris?"
"What
about Paris? It's not an issue."
"Do
you even know where the girl is?"
Philip
felt a slight sweat break out on his forehead and his
hands started shaking a little.
"Of
course we know where the girl is. We wouldn't have gone
through all this to loose the girl."
"DuPre
told O'Conner something before he died. I couldn't get
close enough to hear."
"I
said it's not an issue." Philip tried hard to keep his
voice from sounding as defensive as he felt. "Even if
DuPre told O'Conner something, he doesn't know enough
to make sense of it. They would be the words of a dying,
crazy old man. Don't worry..."
"I
never worry Philip. If things have gone too far, you
know what will have to be done."
It
was a threat, subtle and cold. Philip looked into his
friend's eyes as they studied him. They were flat and
lifeless. He could almost imagine a slim tongue flickering
out to lick dry lips and hear the hiss of breath. They
had worked together for a long time, and Philip still
knew this man was not to be trusted. It was his slightly
sociopath tendencies that made him very good and very
dangerous.
"My
time is up." The Snake started to rise from his chair.
"Would you like my advice?"
Not
really, Philip thought to himself. He smiled half-heartedly.
"Do
I have a choice?"
The
Snake laughed. Philip didn't know anyone else who could
laugh without smiling.
"Get
rid of O'Conner. I know he's a good agent, but he knows
too much. You've been wasting his talents anyway trying
to keep him away from that blonde of yours. He's just
baggage now."
With
those words, The Snake was gone, slipping into the night
to return to the hole he'd crawled out of when they
learned DuPre had slipped through the net. Philip let
out a breath and felt tension ebb out. So The Snake
thought O'Conner should be finally dealt with. Maybe,
but Philip had something else to do first. He picked
up the phone on his desk and dialed a few numbers.
"Yes,"
he said sharply when someone on the other line picked
up. "This is Philip Lancaster, Agent LPL400, clearance
Legacy Level Red, Code 22. I need a plane for Paris
right away."
Part
IV Scene II
The
slim young woman shrunk further into the shadow of the
doorframe as the tall man in black breezed past her.
She held her breath, afraid that even the slightest
sound would make him turn around and he would see the
pale glint of her skin in the darkness.
She'd
been following him for days now. Carefully, quietly,
never letting him know that she was one step behind
him. Then he'd ended up here, of all placed.
"Home
sweet home." Arleen O'Conner whispered to herself as
soon as she felt the man had moved beyond earshot. It
had been ten years since she'd last set foot in these
hallowed white hallways. Ten years since she left the
Organization in a flurry of controversy, branded as
a double agent. She showed them. Now Arleen O'Conner
was one of the most sought after, successful free agents
around.
It
had been between jobs when she'd found Mr. Mystery.
She'd tired of her favorite past-time, searching for
Kevin Fairchild so she could kill him, and was in Burabai,
doing a little fabric shopping at the local outdoor
market, itching for something more exciting to do than
decide if she wanted silk or velvet for her next formal
dress. She had then all made especially for her because
most formalwear didn't come equipped to hold a gun and
various other sundries. Even guns-for-hire had to attend
a State dinner or two every once in a while, especially
if the guest of honor was her target.
She
was pondering over sea-green silk or deep violet brocade,
sure to set off the fire in her red hair, when she saw
him. He was walking through the crowd, almost nonchalantly,
no one around him thinking he was anything but another
tourist taking advantage of their cheap goods, but Arleen
knew differently. She knew an organization-trained agent
when she saw one.
She
put the fabric down slowly and smiled kindly at the
woman. Then Then she slid quietly behind some bolts
while she watched the man pass her and sized him up:
tall, older, about fifty. He was muscular, big across
the chest, his face was pale, like he didn't see much
sun, his expression was serious, a scowl thrown across
his square jaw and Arleen felt a shiver run through
her. He was dangerous. His clothes were all black, from
the black overcoat to his black cowboy boots. In his
hand he carried a small, official-looking black briefcase.
Arleen froze. It was a gun case.
Arleen
slipped into the crowd and started to follow the man.
He moved carefully, doggedly, like he was on a mission.
Soon Arleen realized that he was following someone else
just as she was following him. They moved further and
further from the busy center of the city, towards the
warehouses, the cheap hotels and abandoned streets.
Arleen started to leave more and more distance between
her self and the man in black. She would turn a corner
just as he disappeared around another, and another.
Finally, she turned a corner to find him standing in
the middle of the street, staring at the doors of a
run-down tavern.
"Sheist."
The man muttered under his breath. German. Arleen made
a mental note. The man looked around as Arleen shrunk
back around the corner where he could not see her. She
held her breath, then eased her head back around to
see where the man had gone just in time to see the door
of an abandoned building swinging shut. Arleen waited
for a minute, then ran quickly across the street. Taking
a deep breath, she softly pushed open the rotting door
and slipped inside. She'd come this far and she wanted
to find out what was going on. What she discovered would
send her across the continent and back to the place
that had spewed her out into the night like an angry
parent.
Part
IV Scene III
It
was cold. Arleen crouched in the corner trying not to
shiver as she peered through the rubble she'd quietly
slipped under at the man in black. He'd pulled the gun
out of his case and was now resting it on the windowsill.
She could hear him muttering quietly in German every
once in a while. She was sorry she hadn't kept up on
her German.
Then
everything became still. Arleen could only hear his
breathing, and she heard voices from the street below.
The drifted up through the narrow buildings, amplified
by the cold air. When they finally reached where Arleen
was crouching they were a jumbled of echoes and sounds,
but not jumbled enough. Arleen froze. One of the voices...it
was...Declan.
The
feeling left her legs, and her heart raced as Arleen
realized that the man in black was aiming at her brother.
She sucked in her breath sharply and held it as everything
in her body went cold. She wanted to knock the man down
and cry out, warning Declan that he was in danger, that
a gun was pointed at him, but she sat still, every muscle
in her body tight.
She
sat like that for what seemed like hours. Sat while
she heard the sound of the trigger being pulled back,
the silent pop of a silencer, and the groan as a man
below was hit. Sat there as the man in black packed
his gun and rushed down the stairs, no longer concerned
with stealth. Only then did she run to the window and
dare look down. Declan leaned over an old man who lay
bleeding in the snow. As relief flooded her body, so
did a plan. Arleen ran down the stairs after the man
in black. She was going to find out who he was, and
what he wanted with her brother.
Part
IV Scene IV
She
had followed the man for two days. Across Eastern Europe,
into France, finally stopping in London. Arleen's breath
caught when she realized where the man was heading.
A nondescript building in South Kensington, two stories
high with tinted windows and an exterior that was in
need of a wash: The Legacy.
The
man would go through the door of what appeared to be
a travel agency, and a woman would greet him at the
desk. He would be looking for a Mr. Jones, or Fredson,
whatever the newest code name was, and he would be led
back to a small, dingy office that, in reality was an
elevator. The elevator would slip down into a cavernous
fortress; white and antiseptic, where agents crawled
like ants in the passages, and secret plans were laid
that even the government didn't know about. The Hive,
Arleen thought, with the queen bee sending the workers
out to do her bidding.
Arleen
was surprised when the man didn't slip through the doors
of the building, but walked around the back. She followed
him, her feet soft against the wet grass, and rounded
the corner of the building just in time to see the man
slipping under a grate in the pavement. Aha, she thought,
a back door. Arleen looked at her watch and counted
out two minutes. Then, quietly, stealthy as a cat, she
scurried across the alley and pulled up the grate, slipping
into the blackness that had swallowed her prey just
a few minutes ago. She ended up crawling out of a heating
vent and into the white halls of the Legacy. Footsteps
echoed down the hall and Arleen took of after them,
silently blending into the shadows.
It
was no great surprise when the man had ended up in the
office of Queen Bee, Philip Lancaster. Arleen inched
towards the door and put her ear up the wall. She wished
she had her usual bag of goodies she had left in the
hotel. She strained to hear what was being said, and
as the words drifted from the muddled jumble of sounds
into words, Arleen felt her blood run cold.
"Get
rid of O'Conner."
Declan
There
was only one O'Conner they could be talking about.
Part
IV Scene V
"Don't
cry sissy."
Something
was wrong. It was the cold set of her mother's mouth,
and the distance in her eyes as she put down the phone
and slowly walked into her bedroom where she would stay
for days. Arleen knew something was wrong as she pounded
on the door finally collapsing outside until her grandmother
found her in the morning, asleep on the hard floor,
her hands aching and bruised. She was eight years old.
"Don't
cry."
Declan
had sat by her that night, wiping away her tears, his
tiny hand soothing her hair. From that moment on Arleen
hadn't let anyone or anything hurt her little brother.
They had had their arguments, their fights, practically
wanted to kill each other. When she left the Organization,
she left him too. But she still saw the little boy that
had sat with her through one of the darkest nights of
her life.
Now
someone else was planning to hurt him, and she would
be damned before she let them.
Arleen
moved silently in and out of the shadows, down the hallway.
She was going to find a way to keep Declan safe, and
she knew just the person to help her.
Part
IV Scene VI
The
hallways of the London Legacy office were cold and unfriendly
as Katrina Bradley stalked down them. It was early morning,
before they turned on the complex lights for the day.
Outside the sun would be peeking through the morning
haze and the birds would be stretching their vocal chords,
greeting the morning with their songs. Inside it was
only the flick of a switch and the flicker of neon lights
on the white tile floors that would announce another
day at the Legacy.
Katrina
hated it here. She would be glad when they could start
another assignment and leave...go somewhere warm, somewhere
dangerous and somewhere that didn't hold as many memories
for her. They had been in London way too long, and her
irritability and hatred of this place was starting to
bubble over. Then Philip hadn't come home last night,
leaving Katrina alone with her anger. By the morning
she was ready to draw blood. She hated it here, she
was ready to leave, and she was going to tell Philip
to go to hell.
It
had been three years ago when she'd been brought here.
It was a breakdown, the doctor said as he carefully
measured out the blue pills, each one small and shiny,
they had mesmerized her. Katrina remembered the doctors
in their white coats giving their diagnoses. They had
talked like she couldn't hear them. She remembered wishing
they would just let her die, finish the job she'd tried
to start. She also remembered the tall man, distinguished
with graying temples and cold eyes.
"Dammit
Philip."
Katrina's
voice rang out as she pushed the door to Philip Lancaster's
office. His head flew up from the desk where he'd been
working, his face decidedly blank. Her eyes narrowed
as she noticed he'd quickly pushed a manila envelope
under a stack of papers.
What
are you up to now, my pet?
Momentarily
distracted, Katrina refocused her anger, honing it to
a sharp point, then lashing out, trying to hurt as much
as possible.
"I'm
tired of being here. I haven't gotten a decent assignment
for almost three years now. Ever since you and I..."
Katrina made a somewhat rude gesture with her hands,
calculated to raise Philip's eyebrows. It did. "I'm
tired of being your fuck-buddy, Philip."
Philip
sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair that
now matched his temples. He'd started looking older
recently, Katrina thought. He also hadn't been sleeping.
Maybe he hated being here as much as she did. Katrina
had woken up several times in the middle of the night
to find him pacing in front of the picture window in
the bedroom, a glass of scotch in his hand.
Declan
drank scotch.
Katrina
shook her head. Sometimes she had flashes of Declan,
the way he smelled, the way he felt in her arms, pressed
against her body, his mouth on hers, and the way things
used to be. They always came at the worst times, when
she least expected them.
Stop
it, stop it, stop it. Damn you for leaving me Declan.
No, damn you for never leaving me alone, damn you for
living every day in my thoughts and dreams...damn you.
"Katrina?"
Katrina's
head jerked at the sound of Philip's voice.
"Where
were you?"
"None
of your damn business, Philip. Now, where were we?"
"Something
about fuck-buddies." Philip said coolly. Katrina could
tell he was angry. She was too.
"I
was the best once."
Angola,
the desert sun and her gun drawn. Sweat dripped down
her forehead as she waited near the terrorist hideout.
Her stomach rocked as she went deep inside her self
to keep calm. Katrina missed that feeling. Anyway, it
was hard to run away when someone was always forcing
you to stay in one place.
"And
now all I do is push paper, follow you wherever you
go and fuck you at night, Philip. I'm tired of it."
"I
just don't want you to get hurt, Katrina. Those assignments
can be dangerous..." It was something a lover would
say, almost tender, but Philip's voice was soft and
deadly. "Anyway I enjoy you too much."
Katrina's
eyes narrowed and she thought how nice it would be to
just lift her gun and click....
"You
won't enjoy me much longer if this keeps up Philip.
Either I get a decent assignment or I'm out, and I don't
just mean out of your life. I'm out of the Legacy."
Philip
was paying attention now. His cold eyes narrowed as
he realized that this wasn't just another game.
"And
where would you go Katrina?" His voice was cold and
deadly. Katrina felt herself recoil from him, but caught
herself in time. This was not a time to get spooked.
"Would
you go to find him?" Philip continued. "He left you.
Left you for days and it was only we finding you that
saved you. He didn't want you then, why would he want
you now?"
Katrina
could still taste the metal in her mouth, still feel
the shake of her hand and the click of metal on her
teeth.
"He
doesn't want you. He never did. If so, why did he leave
you?"
A
satisfied smile spread across Philip's face. He knew
every word hit home. Katrina took a deep breath and
fought back the tears. She would not do this in front
of him. Only at night did she allow the tears to come.
"I
would go independent Philip." Katrina said quietly,
her voice deadly as venom. "There are plenty of people
who want a Legacy trained agent, and even more who would
like one who knows as much as I do. Don't think I wouldn't
do it in a minute."
"We
would find you Katrina."
"Not
if I found you first."
Stalemate.
Katrina and Philip stared at each other. Finally Katrina
turned to leave the room. If this was the game Philip
wanted to play, so be it.
"Kat."
Katrina
froze and whipped around, her mouth open.
"I
told you Philip, don't ever call me...."
"I've
heard it before. I just wanted to tell you...don't hold
your breath."
"Fuck
you Philip."
With
that, Katrina stalked out of the room, and down the
hall.
Part
IV Scene VII
The
hallways of the London Legacy office were cold and unfriendly
as Katrina Bradley stalked down them. It was early morning,
before they turned on the complex lights for the day.
Outside the sun would be peeking through the morning
haze and the birds would be stretching their vocal chords,
greeting the morning with their songs. Inside it was
only the flick of a switch and the flicker of neon lights
on the white tile floors that would announce another
day at the Legacy.
Katrina
hated it here. She would be glad when they could start
another assignment and leave...go somewhere warm, somewhere
dangerous and somewhere that didn't hold as many memories
for her. They had been in London way too long, and her
irritability and hatred of this place was starting to
bubble over. Then Philip hadn't come home last night,
leaving Katrina alone with her anger. By the morning
she was ready to draw blood. She hated it here, she
was ready to leave, and she was going to tell Philip
to go to hell.
It
had been three years ago when she'd been brought here.
It was a breakdown, the doctor said as he carefully
measured out the blue pills, each one small and shiny,
they had mesmerized her. Katrina remembered the doctors
in their white coats giving their diagnoses. They had
talked like she couldn't hear them. She remembered wishing
they would just let her die, finish the job she'd tried
to start. She also remembered the tall man, distinguished
with graying temples and cold eyes.
"Dammit
Philip."
Katrina's
voice rang out as she pushed the door to Philip Lancaster's
office. His head flew up from the desk where he'd been
working, his face decidedly blank. Her eyes narrowed
as she noticed he'd quickly pushed a manila envelope
under a stack of papers.
What
are you up to now, my pet?
Momentarily
distracted, Katrina refocused her anger, honing it to
a sharp point, then lashing out, trying to hurt as much
as possible.
"I'm
tired of being here. I haven't gotten a decent assignment
for almost three years now. Ever since you and I..."
Katrina made a somewhat rude gesture with her hands,
calculated to raise Philip's eyebrows. It did. "I'm
tired of being your fuck-buddy, Philip."
Philip
sighed and ran his hand through his graying hair that
now matched his temples. He'd started looking older
recently, Katrina thought. He also hadn't been sleeping.
Maybe he hated being here as much as she did. Katrina
had woken up several times in the middle of the night
to find him pacing in front of the picture window in
the bedroom, a glass of scotch in his hand.
Declan
drank scotch.
Katrina
shook her head. Sometimes she had flashes of Declan,
the way he smelled, the way he felt in her arms, pressed
against her body, his mouth on hers, and the way things
used to be. They always came at the worst times, when
she least expected them.
Stop
it, stop it, stop it. Damn you for leaving me Declan.
No, damn you for never leaving me alone, damn you for
living every day in my thoughts and dreams...damn you.
"Katrina?"
Katrina's
head jerked at the sound of Philip's voice.
"Where
were you?"
"None
of your damn business, Philip. Now, where were we?"
"Something
about fuck-buddies." Philip said coolly. Katrina could
tell he was angry. She was too.
"I
was the best once."
Angola,
the desert sun and her gun drawn. Sweat dripped down
her forehead as she waited near the terrorist hideout.
Her stomach rocked as she went deep inside her self
to keep calm. Katrina missed that feeling. Anyway, it
was hard to run away when someone was always forcing
you to stay in one place.
"And
now all I do is push paper, follow you wherever you
go and fuck you at night, Philip. I'm tired of it."
"I
just don't want you to get hurt, Katrina. Those assignments
can be dangerous..." It was something a lover would
say, almost tender, but Philip's voice was soft and
deadly. "Anyway I enjoy you too much."
Katrina's
eyes narrowed and she thought how nice it would be to
just lift her gun and click....
"You
won't enjoy me much longer if this keeps up Philip.
Either I get a decent assignment or I'm out, and I don't
just mean out of your life. I'm out of the Legacy."
Philip
was paying attention now. His cold eyes narrowed as
he realized that this wasn't just another game.
"And
where would you go Katrina?" His voice was cold and
deadly. Katrina felt herself recoil from him, but caught
herself in time. This was not a time to get spooked.
"Would
you go to find him?" Philip continued. "He left you.
Left you for days and it was only we finding you that
saved you. He didn't want you then, why would he want
you now?"
Katrina
could still taste the metal in her mouth, still feel
the shake of her hand and the click of metal on her
teeth.
"He
doesn't want you. He never did. If so, why did he leave
you?"
A
satisfied smile spread across Philip's face. He knew
every word hit home. Katrina took a deep breath and
fought back the tears. She would not do this in front
of him. Only at night did she allow the tears to come.
"I
would go independent Philip." Katrina said quietly,
her voice deadly as venom. "There are plenty of people
who want a Legacy trained agent, and even more who would
like one who knows as much as I do. Don't think I wouldn't
do it in a minute."
"We
would find you Katrina."
"Not
if I found you first."
Stalemate.
Katrina and Philip stared at each other. Finally Katrina
turned to leave the room. If this was the game Philip
wanted to play, so be it.
"Kat."
Katrina
froze and whipped around, her mouth open.
"I
told you Philip, don't ever call me...."
"I've
heard it before. I just wanted to tell you...don't hold
your breath."
"Fuck
you Philip."
With
that, Katrina stalked out of the room, and down the
hall.
Part
IV Scene VIII
Arleen
watched the tall blonde woman stalk out of Philip's
office, an indescribable look of anger across her face.
So this was Katrina Bradley, the great love of her brother's
life. Arleen had run into Declan years ago, in some
Eastern European town, and he'd spilled his guts to
her. She'd listened to him as he told her how he'd let
Katrina go, and how his heart had broken in the process.
Declan had been drunk and Arleen had been in the mood
to listen.
Now
she saw the beautiful Ms. Bradley herself, lean and
dangerous, walking down the hallway like ghosts were
nipping at her heels. Arleen sucked in her breath.
Tasty,
little brother. Definately tasty.
She
could see how Katrina could win the un-winnable heart
of her little brother. There were beautiful women in
the world, but none whose eyes could haunt you the way
hers did.
Katrina
rounded the corner. Arleen licked her lips then slowly
moved out of the shadows. She glided across the floor
and followed Katrina around the corner when someone
grabbed her from behind.
Part
IV Scene IX
Katrina
had felt someone was following her from the minute she
stepped out of the office. She took a deep breath, tried
to keep her hands from shaking, and walked quietly down
the hall. As soon as she rounded the corner, she shrunk
up against the wall and waited for whoever was following
her to come around the corner too. It was only a matter
of seconds when a woman rounded the corner, stopping
to stare down the seemingly empty hall.
Katrina
moved swiftly, darting out to grab the woman around
the neck, her hand covering her mouth, the other hand
pulling both of her arms behind her back until she grunted
with pain. Katrina's foot whipped out and the woman
fell to the ground face down.
"I
won't fight." The woman said. Her voice was muffled.
Kat pulled her Glock out of her waistband and held it
out as she took her foot off the woman's head and back
away.
"You're
right because if you fight, you're dead."
The
woman grunted as she struggled to lift herself off the
floor, a hand going to the side that Katrina had dug
her elbow into. She was rubbing the back of her head
as she stood to face Katrina.
"So
you're Katrina Bradley. Nice welcome sister...you're
as good as they say."
The
woman across the hall from her was doing a quick check
for injuries. She was small next to Katrina's 5' 10"
frame with a slight wiry build and a mass of curly red
hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, although
it seemed to be threatening escape. She was dressed
in all black, setting off the pale glow of her skin.
Katrina scanned her face. Her mouth was tight and Katrina
could tell that this woman didn't share he secrets,
she had a smattering of freckles that ran across the
bridge of her nose, but it was her eyes that sucked
away Katrina's breath.
They
were Declan's eyes.
Katrina
stumbled a little and shrunk up against the wall, her
face sinking back into the shadows as the hand that
held her gun slowly fell to her side.
"Who
the hell are you?" Her voice was tight and twisted,
floating through the dark of the hallway.
The
woman stood up straight and wiped her palm on her black
pants before extending it.
"Arleen
O'Conner, Dec's sister, and I need your help."