Authors: EJ McBride
'You've gone Rogue', said Clara, a sudden moment of realisation. 'You're paranoid. Shit, brother, what have they done to you?'
Nick winced at his sister's affection. 'It's better this way. I know it may not look like it, but you have to believe me, this is better' He looked around at the dirty, run-down mess he was squatting in, a deserted factory, almost as if he wasn't even convincing himself. There was a long moment of silence, before Clara jumped in and broke it.
'How did you know where we were today? How did you find us?'
Nick stood up for a moment, walking to a far corner of the room and grabbing two black rucksacks, moving a laptop out of each one, powering them up. The screens shone bright with various pieces of software, things Clara or Robin had never really seen before, dials and charts flashing out from the LEDs. He typed away at the keyboard for a moment, glancing at the pair as if they should know what he was referring to. As they looked at each other, unsure of what to make of what was being demonstrated to them, they heard their own voices begin playing out of the speakers, clear as day, a conversation they'd been having with Boal some afternoon. Clara, dumbstruck, leant closer toward the screen.
'You were using surveillance against the agency? How?'
'I learnt a lot with those guys', replied Nick, 'unfortunately for them. Nothing quite like learning the tricks of the trade and using it against the people who taught you'
'So you were monitoring them before they recruited me? Why?'
Nick stopped typing and leant back, looking Clara dead in the eye. She'd read his thoughts before he even had the chance to speak.
'They want you dead', she said. Nick scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
'Yeah, pretty much. The Agency doesn't take kindly to people who defect. You kind of reach a point where you know far too much about far too much' Nick looked at Clara, waiting for the penny to drop.
'Kind of like when you find out that the head of the Agency organised for a mayoral candidate to be murdered in a contract killing?', asked Clara.
'Yeah. Pretty much', replied Nick. Clara glanced across at Robin, who'd been sat listening in quietly. 'So they basically used us as a way of framing Gorshkov?', said Clara.
'The political heat was mounting on Friedman', said Nick, referring to the Agency boss. 'He was good at hiding it on camera, but behind the scenes questions were being asked, fingers were being pointed. They could never link Friedman directly to the murder because he never committed it, but Gorshkov knew he had Friedman in his debt, and he wasn't afraid to exploit it. Gorshkov and his goons were running around New York like they owned the place, because they basically did. Friedman needed a way of getting rid of Gorshkov. Friedman has one of the country's top judges on his payroll, and all he needed was a confession, even if it had to be 'altered'. Gorshkov goes to jail, Friedman can officially distance himself from the crime, and the only two other people who know the truth...'
'Disappear?', asked Clara.
Nick's look was enough, she didn't need to hear it. She sighed and looked over at Robin, a rush of despair crashing into her.
'Did they choose us deliberately?', asked Clara. 'I mean, why me and Robin? For this mission? Was that deliberate?'
'You're both good at what you do', replied Nick reluctantly. 'I'd like to think they wouldn't use my own sister as bait but I know them better than that. So yes you probably were. At least you were Clara. You were just collateral damage my friend', said Nick, looking at Robin. 'Don't take it personally'
Clara fidgeted in her seat, motioning left to right, looking for a comfortable spot while she thought, but seemingly unable to find one. Her head was clearly full of questions, and she almost felt unable to control which ones were verbalised, spilling out of her mouth almost accidentally.
'We were told you were murdered', she said slowly, and with some determination. 'The Police caught your killer. John Harrelson is inside right now, serving a sentence for a murder that he quite clearly didn't commit. Was he even,,,? I mean, did he even, ya know? Hurt you?'
Nick's shoulders slumped, his head dropping along with his mood. His eyes told a painful story, and he deliberately kept them away from Clara's gaze, choosing to recount the tale himself.
'He was some homeless guy as far as I know. Nice enough, no harm to anyone. I know I keep saying this, but it wasn't personal. He was the wrong guy, in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the agency made him suffer to give them an alibi. They had enough of my DNA on file, hair and blood and that kind of thing. And what they couldn't obtain illegally, they either faked or bought. This is what they do. So long as I was in the Agency, where they could keep an eye on me, I was no trouble. And the best thing about someone who the world believes is already dead, is that when you kill them for real, nobody comes looking'
Clara looked stunned at the news, the reality of everything she'd grown up believing being a lie. She looked physically sick, as if the magnitude of everything was finally catching up with her. She gazed over at Nick. 'Whatever's happened, I'm so happy you're here', she said.
Chapter 26
'So uh, you think your brother would be offended if I told him his apartment was a piece of shit?', asked Robin, managing to muster a grin out of Clara.
'It's not his apartment', replied Clara. 'Or at least, I hope it's not' She surveyed her surroundings, the damp and mould forming around the ceiling beams, the constant feeling of cold despite the weather outside being warm, and the pair were convinced they'd seen a rat at some point. But Clara didn't care, and felt strangely more at home here in this dank, abandoned warehouse than she'd felt in a long time.
'You must be pleased to have him back', said Robin.
'Uh huh', Clara said, nodding gently. 'I mean, yeah, absolutely...' She paused, Robin leaning back momentarily, as if stunned by her negativity. 'Yeah', she finally said. 'It's just... one minute he's dead. Gone. And in my memory, he's a kid. Someone I've not seen since I was tiny. Sure there was the heartbreak and the pain and the years where I couldn't understand it, but we dealt with it ya know? As a family, we made our peace with what had happened. And then,,, Now he's here' Nick was a fair distance away from the pair, his attention focused on the view outside, perched by one of the factory's many filthy windows.
'It's amazing, don't get me wrong', Clara said, almost trying to reassure herself more than Robin. 'It's just tough ya know? I mean, we're like, 'people' now ya know? Our own lives and backstories and histories and everything'
'Yes', nodded Robin, a sarcastic grin on his face, 'we are definitely 'like' people'
Clara punched him playfully on the arm, pouting and turning away from him. 'You don't understand me', she declared. Robin waited for a moment.
'I understand you more than you think', he finally said. 'You have this person who you love, and then you lose that person. And every day you wonder what they'd be like if you met them now. And because you can never know for certain, you make something up. And it's always the best possible outcome ya know, the hero or the compassionate person or the person who loves you back. And then when you get to meet that person, no matter what they're like, they're not what you expected' He stopped and looked at Clara. 'And that's tough'
'Yeah', she replied, looking over at Nick. 'I'm sure he's a great guy. I just hope the Agency haven't messed him up too much'
'He'll be ok', said Robin. 'He seems tough' He gazed at Clara, her eyes looking down in front of her. 'What about us?', he asked, Clara looking up at him.
'Us? What about us?', she replied.
'The Agency. I hope they haven't messed us up too much'
'Oh. Yeah, of course. For a moment there I thought you meant us as in, ya know, us!'
Robin didn't flinch at Clara's statement, staring straight back at her.
'Would that be so bad?', he asked.
'No! Of course not, come on Robin you know that's not what I meant' The pair stared at one another, minds blocked off, their eyes scanning each other's for what felt like an eternity. Clara smiled first, leaning forward and kissing Robin delicately on the lips, gently stroking his face with her hands. She lifted herself up on to her feet, stroking his hair playfully as she walked away.
'That's all you're getting', she said. 'Besides, we're practically married!' Robin laughed as he watched Clara's exit, playing with the fake wedding ring on her finger as she went.
Chapter 27
It was dark outside, and the lack of lighting meant that the inside of the old deserted factory they were temporarily squatting in wasn't much lighter. Clara had fallen asleep, Robin perched nearby, awake but stuck in a quiet moment of contemplation. Nick had barely moved from his position near one of the main windows for the last few hours, his head pressed against the old brick wall, refusing to approach the window 'head-on', for fear of who might see him or what they might do. Robin, stirring from his meditative state, watched him for a few moments, before calmly asking him, 'Where are we exactly?'
Nick, not taking his gaze away from the window even for a second replied. 'Not far from the Russian bar, maybe a few blocks. When I found out about their plans for you tonight I staked the place out, I've been here a couple days'
'Shouldn't we get moving?', asked Robin. 'I mean I don't know about you, but the last place I'd want to be right now is this close to the scene of a major shooting involving Russian mobsters. A shooting that we caused'
'Sometimes the best place to be is the place that's close', replied Nick. 'Nobody would ever expect us to be here, they'd assume we were miles away by now. Besides, this place is secure, nobody's going to come looking'
'Then why won't you take your eyes away from the window?', asked Robin.
Nick turned his head to face Robin for a moment.
'I don't know', he replied. 'Something just doesn't seem right' He turned and moved across the room, walking straight over to Clara, giving her a firm but gentle nudge to wake her up. 'Come on', he said. 'We're going to use the remaining darkness of night to get going. If anyone went looking for us, they'd be well away from here by now. And anyone who's not already looking for us won't be planning on starting anytime soon' Nick grabbed his rucksack, packing up his various belongings, his laptops and the few items of clothes he had lying around. Clara got to her feet, walking to Robin who put his arms around her, kissing the top of her head gently. 'Time to move you two', said Nick, slinging the rucksack over his shoulders and leading them to a large metal door at the far end of the warehouse, a particularly dark part they'd not ventured into during their short stay. Nick grabbed a rusty old bolt-lock, twisting it to pull it out of position, and quietly rolled up the shutter, just enough for the trio to escape, moving off into the darkness outside.
The streets were eerily quiet, the yellow of the street lights bathing the sidewalk, the night air still warm considering the time, somewhere around 3am. The trio had walked about 200 yards away from the factory, arriving near the same road that lead to the Russian bar, albeit a fair distance further away. There were no cars, no people, no nothing, which Clara found to be both comforting and terrifying at the same time.
'What's the plan?', she whispered to Nick.
'We need a car', said Nick, changing his black flack jacket for a brown sports coat and baseball cap he had in his rucksack, in the hopes that a passing motorist might not be completely terrified by his appearance. Across the other side of the sidewalk was a petrol station, illuminated but empty of customers, only the guy working the nightshift behind the plexiglass window, bored and watching something on a small portable TV. Still crouched out of sight, Nick reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone, more rugged and with a much larger aerial than the smartphones Clara and Robin were used to.
'Nice phone bro', joked Clara.
'It may not be as fancy as your's, but it does something that yours can't', he said, keying in a six-digit number, the phone beeping a few times before a green light flashed 3 times. 'This is a totally secure line', he said. 'Nobody can listen in, I'd trust my life with this phone'. He thumbed a few numbers, then put the phone to his ear.
'Hi, uh yeah, could I get a cab please?' Clara and Robin looked at one another, bemused by Nick's arrogance, the very idea that he would just 'call them a cab' to escape, while her brother continued. 'The JetStream Gas Station. We're just outside it, as soon as you can please' He clicked to put the phone down, then turned to look at his puzzled friends. 'Trust me', he said. 'We need to stay legal for as long as we can, we need to keep our noses clean. There's a place I know back in the city where we can steal a car and use it to get a little bit cross-country. So long as we're always moving, and we're always jumping into a different car, we'll be fine'
The three waited for 15 minutes or so, talking quietly, nervously, anticipating the journey ahead. They'd planned to head East, back over toward New York. All of them knew people there whom they could call on for support whether it be in the form of a couch to sleep on for the night or a wedge of cash they could borrow, and they knew it was about as good as they were going to get while they figured out what life after the Agency was going to look like. Clara looked over at the JetStream gas station on the other side of the street.
'I'm gonna use the ladies room', she said, half-pointing at the gas station.
'Do you have to?', asked Nick.
'What do you mean do I have to? As in, do I need to go? Cos why else would...'
'No', snapped Nick, 'I mean do you HAVE to go over there right now? We're trying to keep a low profile here'
Clara's look turned from passive to confrontational, of noncompliance. She puffed, a kind of 'fuck you' sound that a teenager would have been proud of, and walked across the street in the direction of the gas station.
'Well don't get into trouble' shouted Nick, his request falling on deaf ears.