Leaving was, for Rey, always an act of violence.He rarely grew attached to things or places, but when he did grow attached to them, it was nearly impossible to separate himself from them. When he had no choice but to, he was always forced to tear himself away and the process felt like losing skin.Three months living with his grandmother and he had trained his body into a killing machine. His wounds had healed completely, leaving scars behind like craters and brown puckered lips. Rey tended to know things like when he had overstayed his welcome or when he needed to go, and yesterday he’d stayed up all through the night, staring at the ceiling in the dark with a distinct feeling of dread crawling slowly up his spine. In that moment; he just knew. He had to leave. And so before dawn broke the morning sky, he made all the necessary arrangements, stuffed the clothes he had amassed—mostly some of his grandfather's old shirts—into a duffel bag, and packed his boots.By the time morning lig
The city was a stranger again. Reynolds took a ferry boat back into the heart of the suburbs, and when they passed under the bridge from which he had fallen, he gazed heavenwards. As expected, there was no indication that once, there’d been an assassination attempt at the spot. The railing had been beaten back into shape. The sun overhead was a kindly thing, shining down as though it was afraid of its own intensity.The ferryman dropped him off at the docks, and for the first time in months, his feet touched tarred ground. City ground. He plunged headfirst into the city and its early morning crowd, maneuvering his way through the wide flat streets and the narrow alleys. It was not long until he found himself a taxi to take him home. He took in the scenery as they went: black gravel and white paint markings, buildings of minimalistic architecture, their glass-to-ceiling windows glinting with the sun. A woman pushed her baby in a stroller. A red scarf was slung around her neck and it
Reynolds was already on his way to The Johns conglomerate when Jovian answered the phone. Since the vehicle at his house was broken, he opted for another taxi. The driver was North African, and his words came out with an accent like dried magma.Jovian's surprise to hear Reynolds's voice was evident in his tone, but, quickly, he got over his initial shock and explained the state of things to Reynolds. Apparently Kayla had been abducted that morning and taken to God knows where. He and Lei were wounded in the course of the attack, he told Reynolds, and while she was incapacitated, he was not. The family was gathered at the family house. Readying the calvary, Reynolds hoped earnestly. His wife and unborn child where at stake."Change of plans," he told the driver. "Take me to 305 Fifth Avenue."The driver hit the brakes eagerly, reversed the vehicle and rerouted himself, right in the middle of traffic. He spurred the car into a dash. Reynolds decided that he liked the man. There was
"Fourteen armed men on the ground, two on the roof. That is a total of sixteen men." The commander said, gesturing at the screen, as he addressed the legion that was assembled before him.The laptop was small and compact and it had been set down on the top of one of the humvees. On its screen, a red dot moved. The red dot was Reizei, an undetectable tracker having been placed on him before he entered the building. They had the blueprint of the building and aerial vision from a drone.By then, the names of the men that had abducted Kayla were common knowledge. James Corrigan, popularly known as Jamie. And Riker. That one needed no introduction whatsoever.Jovian wiped sweat from his brow. His body was a furnace. It was the fever that had finally come to take him. His vision blurred at the sides and a headache raged inside his head. They had placed a tracker on the trio that went before them to scope the place and loosen its guard. To soften the ground, as some would call it.He shook
The tracker vanished all of a sudden and Jovian's head jerked with a start. He had been watching his wearable monitor almost boredly up till it happened. “What the--?" He spat."What?" asked Ceneau who had also been observant."Do we move?" one of the aides asked. Jovian nodded. He dd not want to say that the tracker had been lost. They'd just drive to where it was last seen.Everybody prepared hastily. Even Ceneau fiddled with a rifle he probably couldn't use. They piled in and hit the gas, hard.****The first thing Reizei did was strike the overhead sensor. He guessed that damaging it could shut the mantap on one end (for both doors) and lock half the guards out momentarily. And it worked. The only people to cross were the three of them, Riker, and about half the escort party.Once Reynolds grabbed the nearest guard's gun, he had acted, ramming his fist into the circular sensor above his head. There were screams, including his.The Chairman scrambled. The guard behind Reizei gra
The police never got around to finding Riker. He was ghost, they said. Came and went as he pleased. In truth, he was aboard the next flight out of the country after the Johns foiled his coup. With his absence came peace. The Chairman gave Reynolds a position in the company to work alongside Hamish. Kayla's baby continued to grow, her belly ballooned, pushing against her buttons. For the couple and the Johns, the world seemed a kindlier place.All except Hamish.He was angered by the turn of events, especially with Reynolds' new position as his managerial superior. Bloody Reynolds? His Superior! They had no inkling what he was capable of. Maybe he would have to show them. By himself this time. He would restore his honor by taking out all his enemies and their accomplices, in any form they manifested. Including those who directly limited him, and those who did so indirectly, by being dumb and sluggish, by playing with his goals.The first, perfect victim would be Grant.Luckily, a d
Hamish was painstaking meticulous at planning. He knew when things could go slow, when they could go fast, and when they needed to go fast. Killing Rey was a fast game. It had to be if it would be played, as it was also a cagey game. Not that he was not a cagey man, or that he doubted his own genius. His master-mind. Rather, because he knew that perfection was not cheap, and if you were going to kill your next-door neighbour without taking a dent, you required perfection.He had two usable routes. One was direct: strike Rey. This required precision and care, seeing as the man had become his father's favourite. The other was a bit more accommodating: Strike Rey through Kayla. That is, strike Kayla, and when it impacted and exposed Reynolds, he’d then put the man to rest permanently.Being the genius that he was, Hamish kept both routes open. It would be like a double barrel, a kill-both-birds-with-one-stone formula. He was almost enjoying the prospect. All his track would be clean.
Impatiently, the Chairman waited for Rey to arrive. More than clarity, he needed to prove to his son-in-law—and himself—that he was mistaken. If they hadn't been from Rey, he would have paid the messages no heed. He found it rather confusing under the given circumstances. He waited in his topfloor office in the conglomerate that morning, when he should have been busy with other concerns. Reynolds needed to explain. It was not that the strings had no connection whatsoever. No, the Chairman wasn't imprudent. It was the way they connected. And the who they connected to. Those were the things he could not accept. At least, not without hard, infallible proof.His desk phone beeped and he picked it up. It was Rezei, asking if he wanted to see Reynolds."Yes, let him come," he said. Then he glanced sharply at the central air conditioner, feeling like the temperature in the room had fallen by a hinedered degrees Celsius in one second. The door opened almost immediately to reveal Reynolds