Brett Battles - The Destroyed

A geek’s heaven.

She examined each of the computer stations, then picked the one she was most familiar with and sat down. Before waking it up, she removed a thumb drive from her pocket and stuck it into an open port. Though the monitor remained dark, she could hear the computer come to life, as the program that would hide her presence inserted itself into the machine’s operating system.

Once it had taken charge, the computer dinged and the monitor faded on. She was now connected to the rest of the world in a way few people had ever been.

She navigated through several different restricted networks, finally discovering the picture of someone she remembered. A few minutes later, she had his name. From there, she was able to find a current address, and was surprised it was closer than she’d expected. Even more interesting was the fact he’d been involved in not just one aspect of what had happened to her, but two. As she was about to dive back in and see what else she could dig up, her phone vibrated once. She looked at the screen.

Oh, crap!

Hagen was standing at the outside door, holding a bag in one hand, and punching in the door code with the other. She checked the time. He hadn’t even been gone forty-five minutes. What the hell?

She closed everything, forced the screen to go dark, and headed for the stairs. Her only chance was to reach the living area before he did and find someplace to hide until he went up to his office.

She was halfway across the room when she remembered the thumb drive. It was still in the back of the computer. She raced back, pulled it out, then checked her phone as she ran for the stairs. Hagen was no longer outside. Which meant he was heading up to the third floor at that very second.

She jumped onto the staircase, bypassing the first two steps, and raced toward the bottom. As she ran, she tried to recall if there was anyplace on the floor below where she could hide. She had a vague sense of a couple of locations that might work, but nothing solid.

When she reached the bottom, a part of her screamed for her to stop and listen to find out if Hagen was in the apartment yet, but she ignored it. If he’d come in already, so be it. She’d take him by surprise, then get the hell out of there before he could do anything. If he hadn’t entered, she still had the chance to escape without him ever knowing she was there.

Pushing the door open, she prepared herself to hear Hagen yell in surprise, but there was nothing, no sound at all, just the dead air that had been there when she’d passed through earlier.

She looked left and right for anything she could crawl under or hide behind. There was a dark wooden cabinet in the corner that looked as if it had a little space behind it. But it would be tight- very tight-and if she didn’t fit, she’d be caught in the direct sightline from the door.

Kitchen? No, the bag probably had food, so he might head straight there.

Outside the main door, she heard someone climb the last step and stop.

No!

Whipping around once more, her gaze fell on a door under the staircase to Hagen’s office. It was flush to the wall, designed not to be noticed.

As silently as she could, she hurried over, and pulled on the recessed handle. A closet, stuffed with jackets and a few boxes and bags. She jammed herself between the clothing, and pulled the door closed behind her. Two or three seconds later, she heard the front door open and Hagen’s footsteps.

She’d made it. If she played it right, he’d never even Wait, was he wearing a jacket when he left? she wondered. If he was, would he put it in the closet?

She tried to recall what he’d been wearing as she followed him down the street to the T-Bana, but she couldn’t remember.

Relax, it’s a beautiful day. Plus, he’s a Swede. If he doesn’t have to wear a jacket, he won’t.

She concentrated on the sounds coming from the other side of the door. Hagen seemed to be moving around near the kitchen. Then the noise faded, and for a few minutes she picked up nothing. With each passing second, her tension grew.

What are you doing?

Another half minute passed, then the sound of footsteps returned. Only this time, they were heading her way.

They became so loud, he had to have been passing right outside the closet. A second later a door opened, then steps again, but these rose above her as Hagen ascended the stairs to his office.

The same voice that had urged her earlier to wait did it again, but the part of her that still retained some of her previous training knew that the time to leave was before he got settled. For a minute or so, he would be moving around and less likely to hear any noise she might make.

The latter voice won out.

Just over a minute later, she was on the sidewalk, her pace a leisurely stroll, something that would not draw attention.

Something that took every ounce of her will to maintain.

WAT DOI THONG, THAILAND

As Nate climbed to his feet, Quinn turned and walked away.

“Truce?”

Nate looked back. The monk he’d been fighting was holding out his hand.

“You’re not going to yank me back to the ground, are you?” Nate asked.

“Apparently we’re fools, so no. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

Nate shook the man’s hand.

“I’m Daeng.”

“Nate.”

“I’ve heard about you.”

“Can’t say the same.” Nate looked toward the spot where he’d last seen Quinn. “Where did he go?”

“I can show you,” Daeng said.

“So now it’s all right?”

With a shrug, Daeng said, “Apparently,” then started walking down the path.

The main temple was at least three stories high. Through the large open door in front, Nate could see a partial view of a gigantic Buddha at the far end. Instead of going inside, though, Daeng led him around the building toward a much less assuming one set back amongst some trees.

As they walked, Daeng asked casually, “Which is the leg you lost?”

Nate kept his expression blank, but couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with the fact that the monk apparently knew a lot about him. After a second, he said, “The right.”

“How far down?”

“Just south of the knee.”

“And everything below that is man-made. Amazing. The way you moved, I would have never guessed.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll never forget.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Along the wall of the smaller building was an open door. Daeng went through first, and Nate followed.

The room they entered was obviously used for teaching. There was a portable blackboard at the front, and several rows of chairs with attached desks through the middle portion. At the back was a desk where Quinn sat, writing something in a black ledger-sized notebook.

While Daeng seemed content to remain near the door, Nate strode across the room, and stopped a few feet in front of the desk.

Always trim, Quinn looked even thinner than usual, but that, by far, wasn’t the only change Nate could see. Quinn’s hair had grown out, too, falling an inch or two below his ears. Nate guessed it had also been at least a week since his boss-or perhaps former boss, that was still unclear-had picked up a razor.

Without taking his eyes off what he was doing, Quinn said, “You shouldn’t have come, Nate.”

“I’m sure my showing up like this isn’t a surprise,” Nate said. “That woman, Christina-she must have told you.”

“And I told her to tell you to stay away.”

“Yeah. I got that message.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

Quinn finally looked at him. “Okay, you’ve seen me. I’m alive. Now you can get back on your boat and go home.”