Brett Battles - The Destroyed

Upon arrival, Michaels and his second-in-command, Alder, took a walk around the block, and used a portable heat-sensing device to determine if anyone was in the target apartment. It turned out there were two people present. Though the device couldn’t determine identities, odds were one of those present would be the man they’d come to see.

Since it was still relatively early, Michaels placed Alder and the other two men on his team-Janick and Sterns-strategically along the street. He then climbed back into the rental to give Hagen and his neighbors time to settle in for the night.

Over the next two hours, the street went from mostly quiet to dead still.

Michaels touched the earpiece he was wearing, activating its microphone. “Janick, let’s see what our friends are doing.”

“Copy,” Janick said.

Janick had been given possession of the heat sensor, and charged with the task of periodically checking Hagen’s flat.

There was a delay of about twenty seconds before Janick said, “They’re in bed.”

Finally, Michaels thought. “Okay. Everyone hold tight. Won’t be long now.”

He turned off his mic and called Peter.

“They’re finally asleep,” he reported. “We’re going to wait forty-five minutes, then go in.”

“Excellent,” Peter said. “Let me know-” A voice in the background cut him off. “Hold on.”

It sounded like Peter put his hand over the phone. Michaels could hear voices but nothing distinctive.

When Peter came back on, he didn’t sound pleased. “Can you go in sooner?”

Michaels was surprised by the question. “Only if we don’t care if they’re in a deep sleep or not.”

Another muffled conversation, then, “Do you feel that’s important?”

“Peter, what’s going on?”

“Just answer the question, please.”

“All right. Yes, it’s important. You want the guy alive. There’s a lot better chance of that happening if he’s struggling to wake up, as opposed to jumping right out of bed because he hasn’t fallen asleep yet. There, does that work for you?”

“Just a second.”

A third conversation ensued. It quickly became clear to Michaels that someone else was trying to call the shots.

“Okay, proceed with your plan,” Peter finally said. “Report in as soon as you have him.”

“Should we be worried about this job?”

Peter paused. “ You shouldn’t be.”

The line went dead.

Mats Hagen felt the bed move. Probably Eva getting some water. A herd of horses was quieter sometimes. He turned on his side and tried to recapture the dream he’d been having.

It was about the girl who worked at the coffee shop around the corner. In his dream, he’d found himself alone in the kitchen with her as she started to take off her clothes. It was a poor substitute for real sex, but Eva had made it clear he wasn’t getting any tonight.

“My stomach still bothers me,” she’d said. “I just want to sleep.”

He told her that was fine, mostly because he’d had a vision of being puked on mid-thrust. That was enough to turn anyone off.

A groan, soft and distant but urgent. Part of his dream? Coffee girl calling me back. At least she wasn’t going to say no. Baby, here I come. You’re going to love “Get up.”

The voice was most definitely not part of his dream. It wasn’t Eva’s, either. Hagen’s eyes failed to open the first time, but on the second try, they did.

A man stood near the bed, silhouetted by the light filtering in through the window.

A man?

Hagen sat up with a jolt, his hand automatically moving toward the hidden compartment in his headboard where he kept an unregistered Beretta pistol.

“I wouldn’t move another inch,” the silhouette said.

How in God’s name had they gotten in without him knowing? His alarm should have gone off. He should have had plenty of warning.

“So you are Mats Hagen.” A statement, not a question. The man grabbed Hagen’s arm and yanked him to his feet. “Come on.”

As Hagen stumbled around the end of the bed, he saw Eva near the wall. Another man was holding her from behind, one of his gloved hands over her mouth. Her terror-filled eyes implored her boyfriend to do something.

But what could he possibly do? These guys were bigger than he was, and obviously armed. His gun was still sitting in his hidey-hole. Which, on further consideration, was probably not a bad place for it to be. If he’d pulled it out, he probably would have been dead by now.

The man pushed him all the way into the living room, where two more men were waiting.

This was seriously not good. They were obviously pros, which meant there was a very good chance they were sent by someone he’d worked with before. He tried to think of anyone who might have been dissatisfied with his work. There were a couple minor things, but nothing worthy of this kind of reaction.

Or maybe it wasn’t a client, but someone affected by the work he’d done for someone else.

“Look, I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but whatever the reason, I’m sure we can work it out. Maybe there’s someone I can talk to?”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

The man shoved him in the back again. Hagen’s initial thought was that they were heading for the front door. Perhaps they’d take him down to a waiting car, and then who knew where after that. But instead of the door, the man reoriented him toward the stairs that led up to his office.

A) He should have expected that, and B) oh, shit.

He had far too much sensitive information up there. His only chance at keeping them from finding anything damaging would be if he could reach his kill switch. It would trigger the automatic corruption of all his drives, rendering each completely unrecoverable. It would be a huge blow to his business, but it would be worse if the info got out.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he said, “What exactly are you looking for? If you tell me, I can-”

“Up,” the man ordered.

“All I’m saying is, if you give me a little hint, I can help.”

The man yelled toward the hallway. “Number Three.”

“Yes?” one of the men answered.

“A warning.”

A warning? Hagen glanced around. The only man not in the stairway with them was the man holding- “Wait,” he said. “Wait, wait!”

Eva screamed in pain.

“Stop it!” Hagen yelled. “Stop!”

“Up,” the man behind him said.

This time Hagen did as he was told. When he reached the top, he didn’t wait to be ordered to open the door. He turned the knob and rushed in. The kill switch was only a few feet inside, disguised as part of a poster frame hanging on the wall. His hope was to get there and push it without the man realizing what he was doing, but he’d barely crossed the threshold when he saw that no matter how fast he might have moved, it wouldn’t have mattered.

The poster was no longer on the wall. In fact, none of his artwork was. Each had been pulled down and thoroughly inspected. The kill switch was lying on the floor, its wiring pulled out and its case smashed. It was clear the men had gone through all his computers, too.

A chair from his main desk was sitting in the middle of the room with nothing else around it, like an electric chair waiting for its next client.

As if to reinforce this image, the man shoved Hagen toward it. “Sit.”

After he sat, he asked, “Okay, now what?”

Saying nothing, the man walked over to the computer station nearest Hagen. He turned the monitor so it could be seen from the chair. “You said you wanted to talk to someone.”

He hit the trackpad, bringing the screen to life. On it was a head-and-shoulders image of a stern-looking bald man. At first, Hagen wasn’t sure if it was a still or video, but then the man spoke.