Evenfall (31 page)

"A skinny blond boy attempted to infiltrate two of our locations recently. It seems you finally found what you were looking for but still fail at not getting yourself captured."

Boyd shrugged unconcernedly and didn't bother to reply.

Andrews looked at his second in command expectantly.

"Nothing," was all Jones said.

This was apparently acceptable because the 53 leader nodded. "So, who are you? One of Jason's new recruits? I wouldn't be surprised-- he doesn't give a shit about his people enough to stop them from going on a suicidal quest for nothing significant. I don't know what you aimed to accomplish here but you'll save yourself a lot of trouble by telling me now."

Boyd took in his surroundings again, his impassive golden brown gaze moving along the hostiles. He looked for any change, any break in the circle surrounding him.

There was nothing. They had him thoroughly surrounded and the bunker's few and highly guarded entrances gave him no delusions of escape.

He was going to die here.

He only wondered whether they would do it right here or whether they would bring him somewhere else first. He wondered how painful it would be and how long Sin would wait around before he left. Assuming he hadn't headed back to Lexington already.

Boyd met Andrews' eyes evenly. "I have nothing to say so you'll save yourself trouble by not bothering to ask."

"Foolish move but as you wish."

As soon as the words left Andrews' mouth, one of the men approached Boyd and slammed the butt of a gun violently into his temple.

Boyd was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Time passed, or at least he thought it might have. Nothing made sense. Pounding that accompanied his heartbeat only belatedly translated as a headache. It took him several seconds to realize his eyes were open again.

He saw feet around him; moving and running and jerking back and forth.

There was a flurry of motion that Boyd could not follow through his hazy hold on reality. The thumping of a man's knees against the floor caused him to slide half-lidded eyes over.

A young man with bright blond hair was staring ahead with a surprised look. He stayed there and, in a moment that seemed to stretch, he tilted to the side and fell to the floor. Boyd stared at him with darkening vision, realizing in a distant sort of surprise that the man was dead.
Sounds echoed around him, people yelling and guns going off. Stray bullets flew past him and Boyd struggled to keep his eyes open. He didn't even know his eyes had shut until he realized it was black all around him when he heard frantic shouts.

"Shoot him!"

"Jesus Christ, kill him!"

"What the
fuck
--"

He struggled to open his eyes again and he saw a flash of red; Sin stood there in a moment suspended in time, his back to Boyd while he stood calmly amidst the chaos. Boyd could barely see someone aiming a gun at Sin.

Boyd's eyes fell shut again. Even the sounds were getting muffled, as if wrapped in cotton and covered in a blanket, but he tried to claw his way back to consciousness. He opened his eyes, barely enough to see just through his lashes, and Sin was nowhere to be found. The place was empty and someone was standing over him with a gun aimed at him. He closed his eyes again, then opened them and the person was gone.

Confusing flashes surrounded him and he didn't even know if he was awake or asleep.

Vaguely, he realized that he had just dreamed Sin was there. He didn't know why he had. Sin was long gone and wouldn't return. Boyd was alone and they had killed him or were about to kill him. Apathy mixed with his throbbing head. Eyelids that felt too heavy fell shut and didn't open again.

Chapter 10

Boyd became aware of reality in parts.
Darkness surrounded him. He drifted with that for awhile, the darkness and he coexisting together; symbiotic, calm. After awhile, he realized that he heard nothing and that seemed strange. When he remembered that he could hear he realized he could feel.

Something light and soft covered him; he could feel it on his skin. He focused on that and tried to understand what it was. There was something beneath his head and beneath his back. It took awhile, but the words filtered into his brain.
Pillow, bed
and
sheets,
and the image of a cabin came to mind.
He tried to understand what that meant, and then he realized he was breathing. That shouldn't have been something he noticed but he did. His chest rose and fell, and the soft sheet was rearranging itself each time.
His fingers twitched and then he felt the pain.

His head throbbed violently. It felt like it was in sync with the blood pounding through his brain. After he noticed the headache, he realized his side hurt; mostly his shoulder. Then the aching of his back joined the clamor, followed by his thigh. Little pains and big pains joined together to make him wholly uncomfortable and unable to return to the serenity that had sheltered him just seconds before.

His sense of time was warped, so it could have been seconds or centuries before he remembered why it seemed strange that he was having any thoughts at all. Flashes moved behind his eyelids; disjointed scenes as if someone took film and cut it apart and put it back together haphazardly.

The crystal clear image of Sin's back to him while people fell was strong in his mind, and with it came the memory of being surrounded. The strike against his head and him falling to the floor. The pain of a limp body striking concrete.

His mind started to drift again but then the image of Sin persistently returned and with it came sudden understanding. Followed by delayed disbelief.

He was alive.

At the understanding, Boyd's abruptly eyes opened and he stared at the ceiling.

It wasn't the same ceiling as in the bunker and come to think of it hadn't he thought he was on a bed? Confusion muddled his mind and he sat up before he thought about the fact that he could be captured and it could be in his best interest to feign sleep.

Boyd blinked in dumbfounded confusion when he finally took in his surroundings.
He was in the cabin outside 53's rebel base, just as he had been the night before. Had it been the night before? He glanced at the windows but the curtains were drawn. What time was it? How many hours had passed? Was it more than a day?

Strangely, Warren Andrews sat in the corner. He was tied up, glowering around him, and cloth was tied in his mouth so he couldn't make a noise. Boyd stared at him for a long moment, unable to comprehend what he was doing there or why. He looked away rather than overwork his mind trying to interpret the oddity in the environment.

Leaning against the wall was Sin, his arms crossed and expression blank. But he was staring at Boyd, and he didn't even blink when Boyd looked over and met his eyes. They stared at each other for a long moment; Sin intensely, and Boyd too confused to even know exactly what was happening.

Had that memory of Sin's back to him been real? Had Sin been watching the whole time the way he had on previous missions? Had he actually saved Boyd? And if so, why? Sin didn't save his partners; that much had been made clear. Had the guilt from the previous night been so strong that he'd deviated from his routine this one time? And why in the world was Andrews tied up in the corner of their cabin?

"Sin," Boyd said finally, blankly. Unable to form any other words.

"Boyd," Sin replied flatly. He looked at his prisoner. "I took the liberty of bringing him here for further... negotiation."
Boyd looked at Sin a little strangely, his mind still scattered as the pounding of his head vied with the oddity of waking up like this. His eyebrows dragged down and he brought one hand to his head as if it would quell his headache or make his thoughts make more sense.

He looked down at the sheet that was pooled in his lap and blinked. He wore a loose pair of drawstring pants that he didn't remember putting on. When he touched his left thigh he could feel bandages beneath the fabric.

He stared at his leg and then looked up to study Sin with eyes narrowed faintly in confusion and thought.

The only explanation was that Sin had somehow saved Boyd, brought him to the cabin, secured Andrews, and taken the time to bandage Boyd's wounds and give him a fresh pair of pants. It was such a thorough and thoughtful thing to do that it struck Boyd on several accounts. The least of which was that Sin had bothered to help Boyd and also ensure that the mission could be completed. That had to be why he'd bothered to bring Andrews in for negotiation.

It was bizarre. Sin had never cared about failed missions before. Why did he care now? Why had he bothered to save Boyd in the first place? Beyond that, why had he taken the extra step of giving him even minor medical care? Even if somehow the guilt from the night before had forced his hand into saving Boyd, there had been no reason to do anything more.

Boyd didn't understand at all and although he had any number of questions he wanted to ask, he didn't think it would be a good idea to ask them in front of Andrews. It was best if he did his job as negotiator first and then, when they were alone, asked Sin what in the world was going on.

He drew in a low breath that he let out lowly and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He was a little dizzy when he stood and his body ached in annoyance with his insistence on moving from a prone position. Still, none of it was enough to impede his ability to function.

He walked over to Andrews and stopped in front of him, looking down at the man expressionlessly. Andrews glared up at Boyd but he seemed distracted, his attention repeatedly returning to Sin with something akin to fear or wariness.

After a moment, Boyd crouched in front of the rebel leader. His body felt like it creaked in the movement, his head and thigh particularly unhappy and shaky, but he ignored them.

"I'm going to take the gag out but if you start screaming or still refuse to cooperate, we may run into a problem," Boyd informed Andrews. "So I suggest you work with us and make it easier on everyone."

Andrews coughed and shook hair out of his eyes once the gag was removed. His face was red with anger and his eyes focused on Sin with obvious loathing. Sin just gazed back, looking completely unconcerned.

Boyd noted the exchange but didn't react to it. He kept his calm stare centered on Andrews. "We've been following your progress and we've noticed that recently you've been in a bit of a bi
nd. We're offering a solution."

At first his only response was a low scoff as Andrews' eyes continued to burn into Sin. But then he set his jaw and dragged his gaze away. "If you want to talk, he goes."

"Why should he leave?"

"He slaughtered half my men."

Boyd considered that. He wasn't surprised by the information; if his memory had served him correctly, it followed that many of the hostiles had been killed. Intel had shown that Andrews truly cared about his men so arguing the request would only be counter-productive.

Boyd looked over at Sin, his blond hair falling over his shoulder in the movement. His honey brown gaze moved along Sin's face briefly before meeting his eyes. "Do you m
ind stepping out for a minute?"

Sin raised an eyebrow briefly and said nothing. He looked from Boyd to Andrews and let his gaze flick over the tied up man, resting briefly on the flexicuffs he was secured with. Only then did the senior agent give a short nod and leave the cabin, letting the door shut behind him.

Once Sin was gone, Boyd looked over at Andrews again. With Andrews flexicuffed to a chair, Boyd was not at eye level by crouching and yet if he stood and towered over the man, it wouldn't be conducive to negotiation.

One thing he had learned was that in interviews or interrogations, people tended to mimic the interrogator without realizing it. The signals an interrogator gave could subconsciously affect the responses he or she received. The principles were just as important in negotiation, if not more.

Crossing his arms would be a defensive position, for instance, and were Andrews' arms loose he may have found himself unconsciously crossing his arms in return. Andrews may have also subconsciously viewed Boyd as being distant and may have been, in turn, less open to negotiation.

The subtleties of human interaction were even more important in negotiation. Boyd wasn't about to cut the man loose. So Boyd pulled another chair over. The chair legs dragged against the wooden floor, making faint vibrations and bumping sounds when they occasionally caught on the space between planks.

When he was seated in front of Andrews, choosing the distance carefully to be close enough to create subconscious intimacy but far enough away that it wasn't inappropriate or distracting, Boyd met Andrews' eyes.

"Rather than waste your time, I'll get straight to the point. We've noted the pressure you've been under between Janus' recruitment and the expectations of your men. As of now, it's put you in a precarious position. Unfortunately, Janus will swallow up your group and give you little in return. We have a solution to your dilemma."

"'We'?" Andrews repeated scornfully. He grimaced, showing teeth that looked bloodstained. "I don't know who sent you or who you're with but obviously it's someone just like Janus or worse."

"Better or worse are subjective terms that I can't help you with," Boyd replied neutrally. "But although our strength rivals Janus, we don't indiscriminately attack innocents and targets alike. The innocent casualties to their attacks have been high in the past and are likely to only grow as they attempt to further strengthen their army. As a man who started down this path by trying to protect innocent bystanders who had to pay the price of being caught in the middle of a war, I'm sure you can see how this is a worrisome trend. And why we would want to stop it."

Andrews shook his head and cut his eyes away, staring out one of the windows. His features were set grimly, eyes narrowed into distrustful slits.

"You people are all the same. You think you can use us to get at your goals. We didn't form the True Democracy Movement to be pulled into your political wars. We don't give a fuck about what you want. Our concern is the people of Carson and the bullshit politicians there who do what they want, when they want, and treat the people who elected them like scum."

"Unfortunately for you, you've already attracted Janus' attention and they aren't simply going to go away because you want them to." Boyd shifted forward in the chair, his forearms resting on his knees. "What we're prepared to offer you is this: You join Janus as our spy. For your protection, you will not tell anyone in True Democracy Movement about it."

He raised his eyebrows slightly to ensure Andrews understood the importance of that point, and continued speaking. "You give us information on Janus from the inside and in return, when we no longer need your services, we will provide protection for you and your men. We have no interest in interfering with your fight with Carson's government so you would be free to continue with your mission statement. In addition, the fact that you formally join Janus will look good to your men so you will no longer need to fear defection to Aarons' side. Working with us will ensure you security for your men and goals while simultaneously solving the dilemma of your curre
nt perception among the ranks."

This time Andrews released an ugly bark of a laugh. "Who do you think you're fooling, boy? You think you're doing us a favor? You forgot to add on that it will also ensure that we're under another big organization's thumb. We aren't mercenaries. We don't work for other people, no matter how
powerful they are."

Boyd watched Andrews evenly for a moment and then sighed and leaned back in the chair. "Very well. I'd hoped to avoid this but you're pushing the matter." He watched Andrews seriously. "Today, a vehicle will be waiting outside Kaysen's school. It will be driven by a very friendly woman who will tell him she's a friend of his mother's and she's there to bring him home. It's possible he never makes it home."

His gaze was neutral and didn't waver. There was an unspoken threat in the intensity as he calmly listed what could happen to Andrews' two kids and ex-wife. "It's equally possible that Lily drowns when she goes canoeing at Camp Erickson next Wednesday at 1 pm. The counselor who will be with her group will be frantic when he realizes they lost her along the way. When they later find her body, it will be deemed an accident. And as for Jaime, everyone knows your ex-wife smokes, especially when stressed. Sometimes she smokes in bed. Following the family tragedies, no one would blame her for it. Unfortunately, that habit would be hazardous to her health if she fell asleep with a cigarette still burning and lit her house on fire."

Boyd continued, "It's equally possible that instead of any of this, they could be brought in for rigorous questioning until you agree to work with us." There was little doubt that what he meant, in fact, was torture. "Personally, I think the accidents would be more humane."

The threats were met with silence and a look that could have murdered Boyd on the spot if it were possible. Andrews had gone ashen and his teeth were grinding together as he strained against the flexicuffs that dug into his wrists.