Clay
CLAY
Standing with the crowd in the cordoned-off area, watched as the police worked. The distance the civilians were being kept at wasn’t necessary since the bomb wasn’t big enough to do any damage to anyone but the person sitting right on top of it. However, he wouldn’t correct them and watched them work thoughtfully.
had stayed nearby until Anthony Howell emerged from the building. Keeping to shops with a view of the front of the building, and finally, a cafe with what had to admit was excellent tea. It should have been as simple as Howell sitting in his driver’s seat. The pressure would have activated the timer, only a few seconds delay, just long enough for Howell to close the car door before trying to turn the car on. The bomb would have gone off, with only Anthony killed in the process, and would have taken his prize and moved on.
But there was a new wrinkle he hadn’t been expecting.
Seeing Elliot had been a surprise, and had frozen as he watched the well-dressed, serious-looking man lead Howell out of the building. As he’d watched them, he couldn’t help but think again how strange the universe was. How strange, yet somehow fitting, that the handsome man who had tried to lift ’s mood was also in charge of keeping ’s target alive.
Despite his shock, he’d watched with fascination as Elliot had gone from calm to alert, his entire body stiff, like a snake ready to strike. had no idea what Elliot could have spotted, but it got his attention. Even more interesting was witnessing Elliot sending Anthony away, only to discover ’s little surprise under the front seat.
So, rather than a sense of accomplishment at finishing the contract quickly, watched his work carefully pulled from the car after being disarmed. It struck him as odd that Anthony would suddenly have found himself personal protection. As far as he knew, the man’s charity face was that of a friendly, jovial man who feared nothing and suspected no one.
After some research and talking to people, it was easy to find out Anthony usually drove himself everywhere. He didn’t have much more than a token security team in the building, and while there was a security system, it wasn’t high-end. It was his home that suspected was better protected, but he hadn’t looked into that, considering he’d already figured out what he would do.
What exactly had driven the man to change his habits?
Two cops approached one of the nearby cop cars, drawing ’s attention. He took in their contrasting appearances, their names, and the way they both maintained a stiff silence with one another.
“Perhaps a bit more research would do me some good,” murmured before backing out of the crowd.
* * *
After a brief search on the internet and changing into a suit, made his way to the nearby police precinct. He wasn’t surprised to find it wasn’t busy, with the lobby bare of anyone except the man behind the desk. The officer glanced up from his book as approached.
smiled once he reached the desk. “Hi.”
“Can I help you?” the man asked.
held up a bag of takeout. “Yeah, sorry to bother you, Officer, but I’m here to drop off lunch for Officer Andreas. Is he in?”
It was a hell of a risk, considering he didn’t even know the officer’s first name. Thankfully, the man behind the desk gave a derisive snort as he set his book down.
“Christ, how many brothers and sisters does Eric have anyway? I swear to God, you can’t throw a stone in this city without running into one of you guys. Did your parents even know what condoms or birth control were?” the officer asked.
shrugged, shooting the man a cringe. “Well, that’s something you’ll have to take up with them. Not something any kid wants to ask their parents.”
“True, but still. Your brother’s in the back office. Don’t be surprised if he’s not in a good mood. Him and Edwards haven’t exactly been getting along, don’t know what the Chief was thinking,” the officer muttered as he picked up his book.
beamed at him. “Thanks.”
With the first obstacle out of the way, he followed the man’s directions and walked out of the lobby and into the next room. From the looks of it, most of the force used the cubicles. Little knick-knacks were strewn about decorating each officer’s workspace, and sure enough, along the walls were small offices. A glance into one of the rooms showed a space just large enough for two desks. wasn’t sure what that particular setup was for, but the offices would give him greater privacy if someone came wandering out.
As it was, the few officers barely paid him any attention. They looked up as he passed, looked over his suit and the bag in his hand, and returned to their work. The entire point was for them to assume he was either a detective or someone with a purpose and a reason for being there. had learned long ago that as long as you didn’t stand out and acted like you belonged, people generally left you alone.
As he reached the back, the two officers he’d seen earlier came out of their office. The shorter of the two looked furious, and understood what the man at the desk meant.
“I don’t give a shit, Blaine. That’s not the fucking point,” the officer knew to be Eric hissed as he stomped out.
The taller man, looking no less disgruntled, followed him. “It is the point. You just don’t want it to be the point.”
“Oh, don’t give me that shit,” Eric shot back, heading for a nearby hallway.
“What, the truth? Well, that’s what it is,” Blaine said.
stayed out of their warpath as they continued down the hallway, arguing the whole time. He hadn’t intended to use their office, just wanting one at the back, but he wasn’t one to pass up an opportunity. As he slipped into their office, he could hear their voices down the hallway, still arguing.
Even better, one of them hadn’t logged out of their computer. sat in the chair and typed in Howell’s name. It took only a moment before it finally drummed up the information.
“Ah,” he muttered, looking over the screen.
The files Fate had sent hadn’t included the two police reports from recent weeks. It seemed somebody had already tried to kill Anthony Howell, and in broad daylight, no less. skimmed the report, amused as he read about the failed attempt. A failed gun, of all things, saved the man’s life, and that was precisely why purchased only the best and kept his guns well-maintained. The addition of a threatening letter was equally amusing to . If you were going to try to kill someone, you didn’t warn them, and you certainly didn’t purchase some drug addict off the street with a shit gun to do it.
It did explain why Howell had suddenly decided extra protection was necessary, though. Someone had already made a threat and an attempt, and knew the man had to make a show of protecting himself while he was vulnerable.
With his research on Howell done, he popped a drive into the computer and downloaded the files. Closing the browser and checking to ensure the search didn’t show in the history, he finally pushed away from the desk. A glance into the main room told him he was safe to leave. He dropped the bag of takeout onto a random desk as he passed, waved to the man at the front desk, and walked out onto the street.
Next came a little extra research since he was dealing with more complications than he’d originally planned for. Once he returned to his room, he searched for protection services in the area. It didn’t take long to find the one headed by Elliot. Scanning the clean and well-organized website, he hopped over to a records site instead. Using the money on one of his dozens of prepaid cards, he paid to get the information available to the public from the site.
“You didn’t do yourself credit on your website, my friend,” said as he looked it over.
Born in Vermont, Elliot had lived there until he’d lost his mother. From there, he’d been thrown into the system until he had turned eighteen. Finally of age, Elliot had enlisted in the Marines. The information about that time was spotty at best, which didn’t surprise him. If wanted to learn more about Elliot’s time in the service, he would have to use some of the information resources Fate could connect him to.
The problem was, while would have liked to know what he was dealing with, he didn’t want to alert the Agency that he’d run into trouble. Well, he was begrudging about accepting help from anyone, especially those who essentially held his leash. No, he could handle this on his own. One exceptionally skilled bodyguard wouldn’t be enough to put him off.
However, he’d have to wait a little while before he tried to strike again. Elliot was already aware that someone was trying to get to Howell, and ’s first attempt had been a bit of a hand shower. If had known someone like Elliot was involved, he would have been more careful. Now Elliot knew someone skilled was on the field, which meant would have to think and plan more carefully.
But how to do it?
Bombs were usually too messy, though had his ways around that. Since that was out, his mind drifted to poison, but he pushed it aside. Unless he could be sure it would reach the target, he never used poison. It was too easy for a cook to taste the meal to ensure the seasoning was right, the meal could be given to the wrong person, or someone greedy could sneak a bite. Forced accidents were just as messy, and anything could go wrong. Better to kill the person face to face and stage it as an accident rather than set one up.
He loathed the idea of using a rifle. They were noisy, and trying to find a spot where you could have access to the target and not be spotted was frustrating, especially in a city. That and despite his marksmanship skills, he wasn’t the best sniper. The weapons were too cumbersome and obvious anyway, and he also threw that idea to the side.
pulled the computer toward him once again and typed. Anthony’s house appeared on the screen, and he looked it over. No doubt, after the bomb, Anthony’s security around the house would be beefed up. But if he took the time and learned the patterns and the habits of everyone, he could find a way inside. Nighttime would be his friend, and he could be in and out before anyone knew Howell was dead.
It seemed he would have to, once again, go with the direct route.