this weekly appointment on a hunch. He had parked his car on the street near the aforementioned clinic with a visual on the main entrance. Other agents were posted at different places in case Victor left by a different entrance. Andy found it hard to keep focused on the task – his mind kept wandering back to the slaughterhouse meeting and he asked himself who the hell he could possibly convince to do this. He was at a dead end and it annoyed him. He’d given his word to Schwartz and it seemed as though he might have to go back on it.
“Chink bastard. Half the gangsters want to cut him down and take his place and does he give a fuck? Tending to his health, christ’s sake… I’m waiting for a man to get needles jammed in his ass,” Andy muttered.
It’s going to be a long night. At that moment, as if to prove him wrong, an Asian woman left through the main entrance, her black mane fluttering behind her. She seemed to be floating rather than walking. He couldn’t look away. She might have been walking on the moon. Other than that, there was nothing unordinary about her, until she turned sharply to disappear down a dark alley next to the building in question. If he’d have been distracted for a moment, changing the channel on the radio, he would have missed her. As it was, he saw her perfectly with her long black coat and crisp white pants. Out of habit, he asked himself if she couldn’t be linked to Victor – certainly a woman venturing alone into such a sketchy alley at this time of night was suspicious, and this was all sufficient for Andy to leave his car and follow her. He wondered if she’d been a vision. He had no reason other than a gut compulsion to follow her, but it was strong enough that he neglected his number one rule: without a word, he abandoned his team and ventured out with no backup.
“I’m a goddamned fool, should get back to my position,” he grumbled.
He followed her to the end of the alley, and then a few paces along the street on the other side. She turned a corner. Andy was on her the whole time, certain he was going unnoticed. She stopped suddenly to enter a red metal door that seemed to lead into a warehouse. Andy hung back for a few minutes before following her through. He eased the door open and shut it gingerly behind him. A staircase, also metal, descended into a gloomy chasm. He cursed; you can’t walk a metal staircase silently. Creeping on tiptoe, he lowered himself into the void.
A giant basement opened before him. A light flickered in the distance, and that was it; he started toward it and was floored by a blow to the face.
He cried out in pain.
Here was a bloody mess: a sword at his throat, five hooded figures circling him menacingly.
“You move and I slash your throat.”
“I swear...I won’t move” Andy hissed, sprawled on the ground.
“Who are you!?” demanded the swordsman.
“My name is Patrick,” he lied. “I thought I heard screams from inside and came to make sure there was no one in trouble. That’s it. I swear!”
“Liar!” spat the man to the left of the swordsman.
“I’ll bet he works for Victor and saw everything at the clinic. Get rid of him before they all come after us!” said a female voice.
“Not so fast,” the swordsman muttered.
Roughly, he searched Andy and extracted his wallet from his coat pocket. He flipped it open and flashed Andy’s ID card and agent badge.
Shit. Andy had a walkie-talkie on him with a panic button which, once activated, broadcast a GPS signal letting the other agents know where he was, and that he was in danger. If he didn’t press it he’d be dead in minutes; if he moved to press it the sword would open his throat. Either way, he was dying tonight.
“Andy Bane of CSIS! That’s interesting… and complicating,” said the swordsman.
“It’s actually very simple,” yelled another woman. “We should do him in and fuck off. We’re going to have the whole police and intelligence circus on our
Lindsay Paige, Mary Smith