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“There is a way.”
It probably won’t work. I’ll very likely die anyway, but it’s the only chance I have left.
Jamison takes my hand.
“Name it. Anton has to be stopped.”
“You’ll protect Kate?”
He nods.
“As best I can. But I don’t have any real power anymore. I can’t make any promises.”
There’s no time to argue about it.
“Listen carefully,” I say. “First, I’m going to need a knife and a bottled water…”
—
My second trek across the island goes better than the first. My wound is dressed, and I’ve had time to rest. But, getting where I needed to be was just the easy part.
What comes next… I try not to think about it.
At the edge of the island sits a small shed where seagulls constantly circle and land. It’s perpetually covered in droppings. There’s a simple electronic keypad on the door; it’s not tied to any network or security system, because normally no one would ever break in. The shed has one purpose: temporarily storing corpses.
When I arrive, I find long, black bags on two of the six steel shelves: one for Madeleine and one for Victor Sovereign.
We don’t usually dump dead bodies until the shed’s full. Between Sidney Traves, Edward Lonergan and the other guards Kate killed, it soon will be.
The smell inside the shed turns my stomach; I nearly vomit. Years of death and decay fill the air. However, in my line of work it’s not an unfamiliar scent. After the first whiff, I inhale deeply. It’s vile, but inuring myself will be the difference between survival and death.
I nearly puke again when I open Madeleine’s bag. It’s been weeks since she died, and she’s started to decompose. This is going to be awful.
Rocks had been added to the bag to weigh it down; I take most of them out and stick them under the shelves with the rest. Then I wait, listening to the world outside — mostly birds and patrol boats.
After a few hours, I hear multiple engines — a truck and a pontoon boat — I climb in with Madeleine and my supplies. Fumbling in the dark, I draw the zipper upward. It’s a pain in the ass from the inside, but I get it most of the way.
If only they’d brought Sidney Traves in here last night. His body would have been fresh, and not much bigger than Madeleine’s.
I can’t do much but wait from inside the bag, but I keep my knife at the ready — just in case.
Second: in the morning, tell the guards to dump the bodies. Have them be quick about it,I told Jamison.
I’m not in command anymore,he replied.
Tell them it was Anton’s directive. If he finds out, you can tell him you took care of the bodies so he could focus on the search for me.
A few beeps sound off, and the door to the shed opens.
“Nah, not really. They got killed by a fucking reporter. They were idiots. Don’t feel bad,” says a nasally male voice.
“She’s a reporter, but she can fight. You saw what she did to Lonergan?”
“Dent did most of that.”
“Yeah, true. On three, ready? One… two… three!”
The world lifts up from beneath me; they’re carrying me and Madeleine, grunting and huffing. Every motion triggers a lance of fire through my leg. I try to tune it out; the pain makes me want to inhale, but if I do, the smell could make me cough or retch.
