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I might have been under their control most of my life, but not all of it. I had lucid times, and I saved lots of people that are now helping me. I have my own hit squad, a little less trained, waiting at the airport. It’ll be enough to keep them busy and chasing their tails.
This isn’t going to be easy, but I’m not giving up. I have a key card for one of the cleaners clipped to my waist. They know I’m coming after them or they suspect it because there are now metal detectors at the service entrance at the back where cleaning staff enters. My long hair is up and hidden beneath a bright red wig, and I’m even wearing glasses to further my disguise. The glasses are equipped with microchips to disguise me from the facial recognition software I know they’re using to search for me.
As I enter the building, I keep my head down like the other workers. I move to where the carts with cleaning supplies and other things are. I had another contact set up a cart for me with weapons hidden in it. I don’t know how they got them in. I didn’t ask. They are helping me, and that’s all that matters. Some of the people helping me are organized crime families I was sent to take down. The fact they are helping me is good. I know it’s for favors later. The biggest favor is that I won’t be around to end them or their activities again. I told them I was out after this.
They know, just like I do, that I’ll be dead before the night is out. I don’t see myself surviving this. I’m good, but I’m not that good. I want to make sure those I care about are safe, and the only way to do that is to take care of the two men who did this to me. The two men who think they created me. Oh, they created the killer in me, but me as a person, I did that. With every time that the doctor has thought he wiped my memories, with every time that I’ve been drugged, trained, or tortured, I’ve learned how strong I am. I’ve learned that I’m not only tougher than these two men, but I’m also a better person because I don’t want to kill if I don’t have to.
I will, however, kill them all to save Dario.
I am a killer though, and I don’t deserve what my brother has found with McKenna. I love Dario. I’m sure of that because I miss him so much right now that my stomach hurts. My body feels like it’s trying to shut down from the need for him. But I need to focus. I know Moreau and Formanski will be going after the Revellos. I still don’t know why the doctor wanted me to kill Dante, but I’ll find that out if I survive this first part.
My surveillance has shown me that Formanski isn’t here right now. I don’t have much time before Dante and Dario figure out where I am. I left Dario a note. I begged him not to come after me, but Dante I know will. So I have to take care of Moreau now. He’s working late in his office, and there is a skeleton crew due to the search for me.
As I walk into the supply closet with some of the other cleaning crew, I see the cart that is going to be mine. The number on it matches the number my contact gave me. Another worker goes to grab it, and I stop her.
“That one is mine. See the number,” I say in perfectly accented rural French. It must suck for them that they trained me so well I can speak in so many languages with clean dialect for specific regions. The woman apologizes and grabs another cart.
We move as a group out of the supply closet and break off at the elevators. Three others and I board the elevator, and each get off on their respective floors. When the elevator dings for the fourth floor, I get off and immediately turn into the women’s bathroom. There are no cameras in here, of course, so I open the coveralls I’m wearing and proceed to put on the bulletproof vest and harness I will use to escape. If I survive this. I arm myself with the provided guns and knives. I slide a shotgun and a light machine gun into the trash bin on the cart so I can grab them easily. My favorite sidearm and knife are slid into each of the pockets at my hips. My contact did well. I double-check the explosives I requested. Sitting among the weapons is a Catholic token on a chain. I lift it up and see it’s Saint Julian, the patron saint of murderers. I slip it around my neck and let it drop between my breasts. I could always use a little luck.
When I’m finally ready, I move out of the restroom with the cart. I pass a couple of employees who are heading out. I keep my head down so they don’t recognize me. They don’t even look my way. I’m invisible to them in this disguise. I make my way across the floor to Moreau’s office. His executive assistant has already left for the evening.
It doesn’t cross my mind that this could be a trap until this moment. The floor is almost deserted. I push the cart through the waiting area and right to his door. I don’t knock. I let the door swing open as I push the cart in. Several guards are sitting around the room in different poses. They all jump up.
Yep, he was expecting me.
“I’m here to clean,” I say in French and try to keep my cover for a moment longer.
“Come back later,” Moreau says.
I take him in and finally see the evil in the man I was programmed not to see for years. His hair and beard are grayer than brown, like they were when I first met him. He’s attractive, but his eyes are shrewd. I must not drop my eyes quick enough because he sees me for a moment and that’s all it takes. I grab the machine gun first and send several bursts around the room as I kick the door closed and take shelter behind the cart. It was reinforced just for me. When I pop up again, I send a final burst at the group near the sofas and drop them all. The shotgun is next, and I send bullets around the room. I’m purposely leaving Moreau unscathed, but his men are falling around the room. I notice the door being opened behind me, and I shoot the person trying to enter before I wedge the cart against the door, locking the wheels in place and thus barricading us in the office. I pull my handgun and a knife out and start shooting any stragglers or those who are trying to reach for guns. When I get to Moreau, I find him cowering behind his desk.
For a moment I’m shocked I made it this far, but then I remember they trained me for this. I open my coveralls and unfurl the climbing rope from across my body, then I shoot the grappling hook into his thick desk. The thing is anchored to the floor. I bet that’s a major design flaw he regrets now.
“Let’s go for a ride, Deputy Chief.” I advance on him.
The man was so confident his personal guard would protect him from me that he doesn’t even carry a gun. After fastening the zip ties around his wrists, I move back to the cart and grab more guns, ammo, and a couple more knives before arming the explosive device. The last thing I grab is the small kit to blast the window.
I put the small controlled explosive putty in each corner of the thick bulletproof glass. Idiots on the other side of the door are trying to shoot it, but it’s bulletproof too. Plus, the cart is still locked in place.
I flip the button on the small device, and the glass blasts out. I clip the carabiner to my harness after I remove the coveralls completely. Moreau fights me when I grab him by his hands. A quick punch to his face subdues him before I jump out the window as the bomb in the cart goes off. We are free-falling before I catch us and hold him for a moment. We are still two floors up from the ground. A fall from here wouldn’t necessarily kill someone, but it could really hurt them.
“Time to die, Moreau. Where is the doctor?” I ask as my grip on his heavier body slips slightly. He grabs on to me, causing me to lose my grip on the rope, but I catch us quickly. The auto belay does its job and holds both our weight.
“I don’t know. Have pity on me. I have a family.” I see the cold calculation enter his eyes. “I didn’t rape or torture you, that was allhim.” He begs and pleads, but I don’t care.
“You still made me what I am. You allowed him to do those things. Now you want to go after my family and the people I love. I have no remorse for you. Ask your maker. Remember I’m the villain,” I yell back at him.
I let him go and watch as his body slams into the ground. Just in case he survived the drop, I shoot him a couple of times as I continue down. As his brains explode against the pavement, I finally feel something for the first time since I stepped foot in that building. I feel relieved. I shoot the guards swarming out of the building when I hit the ground. Bullets hit the pavement around me as I run for my car parked across the street. A couple hit the plate at my back, but I keep running. Another grazes my thigh, but again, I don’t stop. My tires are squalling, and I’m off before they can give chase.
Laughing, I look behind me. Adrenaline is pumping through my system. I can’t believe I survived that. “That was so fucking easy.” I question it all as my car is slammed from the side. I turn to see a large Humvee’s grill at my door. My head is fuzzy from hitting the glass, but I shake it off. This isn’t over.
“Doctor Formanski, I presume,” I yell before I slip into the passenger seat.
My car is being pushed toward a couple other vehicles, attempting to trap me against them. I shoot out the shattered windshield and kick it until I can climb out. Jumping onto the hood of the Humvee, I shoot at the driver, hitting him in the head. The vehicle jerks, tossing me from the hood.
I hit the pavement hard, my head bouncing. I curl to protect myself as much as I can. When I finally stop rolling, men are approaching me. I look around me for an escape, but there is none. I slowly stand to my full height. The aches and pains are making themselves known. Doctor Formanski, who is about six feet tall with extra weight around his middle, is stomping toward me from behind the men. I’m surrounded now.
This will be where I make my last stand.
