Evenfall (64 page)

He slipped into the narrow alley behind the building Brunnell lived in and moved silently over the tiled walkway. It would have been easier to catch the man before he'd gone on his excursion through downtown, but he'd had a disturbingly young male prostitute with him that morning and Sin didn't find it necessary to kill a thirteen year old boy.

A majority of the buildings were connected, creating a wall of houses behind the two he currently stood between. The effect was mildly alarming since the buildings were less than a yard apart but he ignored the nausea that made his stomach churn, fought his claustrophobia and looked up at the side of the house. There were lines for clothing strewn between buildings and he noticed that they were attached to shutters or iron frames that bordered the small windows.

He slipped some gloves on and then jumped up; he grabbed hold of one of the iron frames, pulling himself up effortlessly as though he were climbing the rungs of a ladder. He reached out and caught the frame of another window, pulling himself up again and repeating the process until he reached the window he needed. The brown, wooden shutters were open and the window was cracked open. He pulled his entire body up and slipped into it easily, silently wondering how much success he'd have had with that endeavor if he hadn't been underweight.

He crouched in the room and looked around, noting that he was in Brunnell's bedroom, which wasn't exactly what he'd intended. A part of him said in a mocking voice that if Boyd were there he'd probably have a detailed blueprint of every building in the area but he ignored it and stood up. He could hear keys jingling and a door opening somewhere in the apartment so he ducked quickly behind the long, deep red curtains which framed the window. The room was only lit by the setting sun but he saw that lavish rugs and artwork decorated the room in rich colors. Brunnell's bed was huge and had a wide canopy, while a state of the art computer sat on a large mahogany desk nearby.

Brunnell was either stupid or completely careless because he entered the room and didn't even give a second glance at the sheer panel that Sin stood behind. The blond stripped his clothes off and booted up the computer before disappearing out of the room again. There was the sound of another door opening, closing and then a shower being turned on.

Sin shook his head and went over to the computer, slipping a memory stick out of his pocket and plugging it into the machine's USB port. He uploaded some data, went through great lengths to make the files hidden and then removed the memory stick. He looked around the room again and spied a bag of miniature chocolate bars sitting on one of the intricately carved African nightstands. He grabbed the bag, opened it, filled his pockets and then wandered out of the room and towards the bathroom.

It was kind of depressing that he'd spent seven hours following this man to do something that was completed within ten minutes.

There was complete silence in the apartment until Sin opened the door and a startled cry rang out. A muted gunshot was followed closely by the sound of a body hitting the floor, and silence returned once again.

===

It was February 9th by the time Sin was entirely through his list. Everything was going smoothly. The evidence was already pointing towards McCall. Information found in the homes of all seven businessmen and their bank accounts had linked their prostitution ring to McCall; it seemed as though the ex-minister was more deeply involved in the operation than authorities originally suspected. All of the murders had been completed execution style and linked to the Russian assassin Alexander Putin, a former lieutenant in Russia's Federal Security Services before the collapse of the Kremlin during the war. Putin was missing and presumed dead, but several phone calls made to his cell phone had been traced back to McCall's office in Baton Rouge, Louisiana before his disappearance.

During this time, it was widely reported, McCall had become withdrawn and a recluse in his New Orleans home. He'd discontinued all projects due to the worsening media storm. Interviews with family members described a highly depressed man who seemed to have lost all hope.

New Orleans had become a highly commercialized city during the past few decades, even more so than it had been in the earlier 20th century. Repeated flooding from hurricanes had destroyed 90% of the city's poor districts over the years and the end result had been an extreme reconstruction of the levee system which proved highly successful.

In the end, it resulted in a vast variety of businesses, hotels and casinos being built over the poor areas. It was rare for anyone other than the wealthy to live in or even visit the city; it was very exclusive and very expensive. It was one of the few major cities to remain untouched by the war in the US, but that was most likely due to the fact that nothing of note existed there aside from retired millionaires and rich artists.

Sin thought it was rather odd that this charitable clergyman lived in a city known for debauchery and excessive waste of wealth, but according to the man's files he'd grown up in the Lower Ninth Ward. McCall had become a self-made businessman and millionaire before finally retiring from his business at an early age and becoming a minister.

He'd lived his life peacefully in the Garden District until the government showed complete disregard for the city's needy and demolished most of the poor districts. Supposedly it was then that he became inspired to help rebuild poor neighborhoods that the government didn't care about. He began his campaign to reconstruct places all over the country that had been ravaged by the war.

The irritation that had been building during the entire course of the mission was beginning to boil over despite the fact that Sin was hesitant to put his finger on the exact reason why. He didn't want to admit to himself that he found this to be wrong; he didn't want to admit to himself that he cared either way.

However, this wasn't the first time that he'd found himself taking a side during a mission. He'd realized that he actually had morals on another mission as well. That had occurred when the Agency had told him to assassinate the Prime Minister of Italy in front of her three kids because she didn't agree with their solution regarding Italian rebel groups.

It was devastatingly easy to break into the man's house and Sin was becoming somewhat annoyed by the complete lack of security these people had in their homes. The entire house had some Greek revival feel to it and could have been quite beautiful, but the inside was rather plain and was anything but decadent. Most of the furniture looked secondhand and there weren't very many decorative ornaments anywhere. The walls were covered with pictures of children who benefited from McCall's various Urban Youth projects and framed awards for his deeds.

The nagging feeling in Sin's gut became more insistent and he gritted his teeth as he crept up the long, winding staircase to his target's room. He reminded himself that this was an assignment and he wasn't supposed to question anything. He reminded himself that this man was supposed to be his enemy. It bothered him that he couldn't keep that in mind. It bothered him that he wondered if Boyd would be bothered by these things.

"I don't know, Nicole. I just—I just don't want to talk right now. No, I'm fine. I'll be fine. I don't know. I just need to be alone."

Sin followed the voice to the master bedroom and noticed that the door was wide open. He could see McCall's thin form facing away from him inside.

"It doesn't matter anymore. It's all over. Everything I've done—and now my own family doubts me? Listen, I'll call you later. I have some work to do, some arrangements to make."

There was a pause and Sin slipped into the room silently, closing the door softly behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched McCall's back. The man didn't even seem to notice that he was there.

"I'll call you back later. Yes. --Heh. Do you? --It doesn't matter, Nicole. Goodbye."

McCall closed the cell phone and let it drop to the floor at his feet. He continued to stand silently, facing the window and did so for a long moment.

"Are you here to kill me, then?"

Sin raised an eyebrow and leaned against the door. "I'm here to make you commit suicide, actually."

McCall turned around and stared at him with a surprisingly fearless expression on his face. He looked older than he had in his picture, appearing to be in his sixties rather than fifties. It was as if he'd aged ten years in the past three months. His silver hair was uncombed and unruly, blue eyes red-rimmed and surrounded by dark circles. "So you mean to say," he began slowly. "That you're here to kill me."

Sin shrugged. "Semantics."

McCall nodded silently and moved to his desk, reaching for a bottle of Gin and a tumbler. "Would you like a drink? Or are we to get down to this right away?" His entire demeanor screamed of weariness and resignation.

"I don't drink but you're welcome to." Sin pushed himself away from the door and walked towards McCall slowly, keeping his arms folded over his chest. "It actually suits my purposes if you do."

"Oh?" McCall glanced up at him. "You're going to poison me?" He seemed almost amused at the idea of it. "How absurd."

Sin shrugged. "Hey, it wasn't my idea. I just do what I'm told."

"Ah." The older man nodded and poured his drink, sitting down at his desk and gazing at Sin through slightly narrowed eyes. "So you're not acting of your own accord?"

"Does it matter? It doesn't change anything." Sin stared down at McCall and uncrossed his arms.

"Ah, well I'd just hoped that the reason for this smear campaign would be explained to me before my death." He shook his head and picked up his drink although he just let it hover next to his mouth for a moment without taking a sip. "Oh yes, of course." He set it down on the table again and pushed it across the table at Sin.

"You're making my job very easy," Sin replied flatly. He pulled the vial out of his pocket and opened it, pouring the clear liquid into the glass slowly. "Drink."

"And what if I said no?" McCall asked curiously. "How are you planning to force me to drink it? I'm not really going to resist, trust me at this point I'm far from caring, but I'm curious as to what your plan was."

"I'd tell you that I'll kill your sister if you make this any more difficult than it has to be."

"I see." McCall was silent for a long moment before he grabbed the tumbler and downed the entire contents of it within a single gulp. He set it down on the desk again and peered at Sin. "How long do I have?"

"An hour."

"Ah." He nodded again and fiddled with the empty glass for a moment. "What precisely was it?"

"An overdose of the painkillers you take for arthritis."

"Ah." There was another silence. "Well, sit down, young man. No need to stand there hovering over me."

Sin looked at him blankly and then shook his head, sprawling in the chair that was placed across from McCall's desk. For several moments they just stared at each other. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the antique grandfather clock in the corner. He was quite surprised at the man's actions; even more surprised by the fact that he showed no fear whatsoever about the fact that he was going to die soon. The thought caused a jolt of unpleasantness to go through him and he turned, staring intently out the window.

"What's the matter?"

Sin looked at McCall again. "What?"

McCall spread his hands out in front of him and shrugged. "You looked angry just now."

Pale, green eyes narrowed into slits and Sin studied McCall. "Could be."

"Maybe because you've killed an innocent man?"

"Could be."

"Maybe you feel guilty because of it."

"Maybe," Sin said without emotion. He tilted his head to the side, staring at the other man. "But it changes nothing."

McCall leaned back in his chair and gazed at Sin. "You aren't how I imagined my assassin to be. You're too…" He gestured idly, trying to find the words. "You're too beautiful and tragic, I think."

"Are you kidding me?"

The older man shrugged again. "Well, there is no denying that you're a striking young man. I think you could be a model if you wanted. But there is also something about you that seems very dark, depressing, and the fact that you just admitted to feeling guilt… well obviously you're not completely callous."

"You do realize that I just poisoned you. That I'm not lying. That you will be dying very shortly?" Sin crossed his arms over his chest again, letting his legs remain splayed out in front of him as he slumped in the chair and glared.

McCall shrugged. "I know, but honestly I don't care anymore. My family has betrayed me, they don't trust me and they won't even believe me over the media. Of course I cannot blame them but… my sister-in-law has taken measures to prevent me from visiting my nephew." A bitter smile crossed his face. "After all the good I've tried to do for children…" He shook his head. "I don't care anymore. If suicide wasn't a sin, I'd probably have done it already."

"Sorry." The words were spoken coldly, flatly, but for some reason Sin knew that he meant it.

Somewhere inside him, he was sorry. Somewhere inside him, he hated the Agency and he hated himself for doing this. But he didn't let it show and his face remained perfectly blank despite the turmoil that roiled inside of him. He wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to be the cold blooded killer that everyone said he was. The monster who could take a life, no matter
who’s
it was. He didn't want to care about this man's life. He didn't want to care about this man's death.