Seeds of Iniquity

  “So…about that confession.” She winks at me.

  I stand from the chair and straighten my shirt, tucked inside my pants.

  “There are still three and a half hours that you get to sit bound to that chair,” I say. “I’m going to make sure that we use every last minute of them. I hope you have a strong bladder.”

  “I have a strong everything,” she says. “You wouldn’t believe how strong my will is.”

  “That will be for Gustavsson to prove, I suppose.”

  “If he shows.” She has little confidence in that, the same as everyone else, it appears.

  “But Victor, there’s something I would like to tell you though.”

  I look at her with inquiry but say nothing in response because something about her offer seems off. Dangerous even.

  “I’ve been watching you for a long time,” she begins, “years, and although you’re a very difficult man to find and to follow, much less get information on, out of anyone I’ve ever studied, you are by far the most fascinating.”

  “Am I supposed to be moved by that in some way?”

  “No,” she says, “you’re not really the type capable of being too moved by anything—Izabel can pull it off clearly, but again, how long that will last is up in the air.”

  “What is your point?” I say, becoming more intolerant every time she makes Izabel a topic.

  “My point is”—she lowers her voice to a whisper; an attempt to keep the embedded mic from picking up her words, though I doubt she cares whether anyone else hears her or not—“that I’ve never been intrigued by any man before, and seeing as how it’s like staring into a mirror, I think you and I could offer each other a very interesting kind of relationship.”

  I look down at her with a suspicious sidelong glance.

  She smiles darkly and says, “We could fuck each other as much as we wanted, and you’d never have to worry about the burdens of loving me, because I’d never love you back. With me you could be who you used to be, never having to worry about my safety, or my…feelings”—her grin deepens—“you could go back to doing the kinds of missions you once enjoyed, the ones on the inside like Niklas used to take, getting intimate with your hit, fucking her until she cries out your name, and coming back to me with no repercussions. Because I don’t get jealous.”

  I shake my head, laughing quietly to myself.

  “You are unbelievable,” I say. “Is that what you’re here for? For me?” I point at my chest; a look of complete and utter disbelief twisting my features. Though I really doubt that is why she is here. “That will never happen,” I say, slashing a hand in the air in front of me. “And you don’t give Izabel enough credit. She may be new to all of this, but she has more self-control than—”

  I hear the door open with boom and see a flash of dark auburn hair whip past me.

  Izabel lunges right over the table and spears Nora in the chair like an arrow. The table is pushed violently out of the way, screeching vociferously across the floor as Izabel takes Nora down with her.

  “Izabel!” I shout.

  Niklas comes running into the room behind me.

  Izabel’s fists rain down on Nora’s head repeatedly; the legs of the chair and Nora’s legs bound to them blocking the view as Izabel sits on top of her chest. There’s blood on her knuckles when I finally grab her and pull her off.

  Nora’s laughter fills the room, echoing off the empty walls. She chokes on her own blood, stops to spit it out with her head tilted to one side and commences laughing afterwards.

  “I’ve had it with this psychotic bitch!” Izabel roars with murder in her voice and I know in her eyes even though her back is to me. My hands grip her at the elbows, holding her at bay.

  “Get her out of here,” I tell Niklas as I turn Izabel around.

  She thrashes in my grasp, screaming curses—I knew it was only a matter of time before Izabel cracked.

  “That is enough!” I shout after forcing her body around to face me, my eyes filled with fury. I shake her roughly and her auburn hair falls down around her face and into her mouth. “I said stop!”

  Finally, as if snapped back into reality, she calms down, but her chest continues to rise and fall with rapid breath. Her face is filled with hatred and pain and retribution.

  “Take her out of here,” I tell Niklas one more time and then I release Izabel.

  She says nothing as she looks into my eyes, but words are not needed to tell me every single thought running through her mind.

  Niklas, with his hand folded around Izabel’s elbow, takes her out into the hall.

  “I should leave you like that,” I tell Nora once the door closes behind me and we are alone again.

  “Yeah, well, I don’t give a shit either way,” she says with laughter still in her voice as I approach.

  Lifting the chair with her in it, I set it back on all four legs. Blood streams from both of her nostrils, dripping down into her mouth. She licks it with the tip of her tongue and spits onto the floor again.

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a handkerchief or something in those pockets of yours, would you?” She smiles broadly, blood glistening on her otherwise bright white teeth.

  I push the table over next to the wall, leaving Nora exposed in the center of the room. Just her and the chair and the paracord and cuffs; a prisoner sitting underneath a bright fluorescent light with her blood-stained teeth and long blonde hair and leather pants and wicked smiles.

  “That woman of yours needs a lot of training, Faust. You can’t shadow her forever. You want to, but you can’t and you know it.”

  “You proved your point,” I tell her calmly, “but you know that even if you get what you came here for, Izabel’s not going to let you leave here alive.”

  “She will if you tell her to.”

  “She doesn’t always do what I tell her,” I say. “And at this point, I see no reason to give her that order.”

  Nora smiles sweetly, cunningly, and the room grows quiet, thick with curiosity and secrets. What is that look of hers all about? It reeks of anticipation; a calculating woman who knows how to play her cards, not all at once, but one at a time. I get the feeling she’s about to play another one.

  “You know, Victor,” she says and I wait for it, “in the six years I followed you, I may have learned little about you, but I did come across a bit of information about someone else that you may find…interesting.”

  She has my attention.

  I just look across at her and wait.

  “You wipe the blood from my face,” she says, “and I’ll tell you. No games or tricks or anything else in return.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I walk casually toward her again, my shiny black dress shoes moving over the white tile floor in unhurried steps. “Why would you just give up information to me?”

  She smiles lightly.

  “Think of it as a down payment,” she says.

  “For what, exactly?”

  “I’ll tell you that later.”

  I do not trust her. Not an ounce. But listening to whatever this information is won’t do any harm.

  “What is it then?” I slip both hands down into the pockets of my slacks.

  “It’s about Vonnegut and Izabel.”

  The resigned expression on my face shifts into blatant confusion. I cock my head slightly to one side.

  Nora’s smile lengthens. She knows she has more than my attention now.

  I pull a small white handkerchief from my pocket that I sometimes use to open doors with to avoid leaving fingerprints, and step up in front of Nora. Pushing her head back with the other hand, I carefully wipe away the blood from her face.

  “Go on and tell me,” I say, and she does.

  16

  Izabel

  I want to hit the wall out of frustration and rage, but I’m not in the habit of purposely injuring myself. I’m ashamed and embarrassed and I’ve never wanted to kill someone in my whole life more than Nora Kessler. Izel runs a cl
ose second, and she seems like she’d be number one because of the shit she put me through, but Nora, no she’s number one in my book because it’s more than me who she’s fucked with—she took Dina, and now she wants Victor.

  Pacing the hallway outside of the room where Victor is with Nora, I scream under my breath, gripping the top of my hair tightly in my fists. I know my face must be beet red and maybe purple.

  “Izzy,” Niklas says, “you know that shit wasn’t right. You played right into her fuckin’ hands, doll.”

  I continue to pace, disregarding his stupid nicknames that would normally make me want to punch him. My jaw hurts from gritting my teeth, my lungs are working overtime and every muscle in my body is so tense I feel like a statue.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” I say, glaring at the floor as my boots move over it, back and forth.

  “Well you have to,” Niklas says.

  I glance up only long enough to see him leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

  Back to focused pacing.

  “And Victor thought I was reckless and lacked discipline,” he adds. “You beat me by a longshot.”

  I stop and whirl around in front of him, my fists clenched at my sides.

  “I don’t need your shit, Niklas,” I snap. “I’m getting enough of it from her. I don’t need it from you, too.”

  I don’t realize until it’s too late that there are tears in the corners of my eyes. I take a deep breath and hold them down.

  “My brother’s loyal to you,” Niklas says now with sincerity rather than ridicule. “I never thought I’d see the day that he would love any woman, Izabel. Never. Screw what Nora said to me when I was in there with her, that shit about me never wanting to be in love, about how I avoided it—that was true for the most part—I didn’t want that shit—but the difference between me and my brother was that I was susceptible to it and Victor wasn’t.”

  I don’t look at Niklas, but I stop pacing and stand with my back to him, and he knows I’m listening.

  “Victor was always the one telling me, when I’d start to get close to a hit or an assignment on my missions, that I needed to be careful. It never happened to him. He warned me, time and time again not to get too involved emotionally. But I didn’t listen and Claire ended up dead.”

  “She didn’t end up dead because of you,” I point out. “There were other people after her. She would’ve died even if you’d never met her.”

  “Maybe so,” he says. “But this isn’t about me. Look, my brother loves you. He’ll do anything to protect you—he was even going to kill me, remember? Jealousy just makes you look bad.”

  I shake my head, stung by his words.

  “Niklas, I didn’t go in there and attack Nora just because I was jealous. Yeah, of course it was a part of it, it was the last straw—I just couldn’t hold it all in anymore. I tried”—crossing my arms, I look away from him again—“but I couldn’t help myself. She has my mother, Niklas! She has come in here and scattered all of our lives around like toys—I can’t take it anymore!”

  There’s a knock on the door from inside the interrogation room. I become quiet in an instant, trying to compose myself and failing.

  Niklas punches in the code to let Victor out.

  “I’ve gotta take a piss and find some food,” Niklas says, his version of ‘I’ll let you two be alone’.

  He shoves both hands into the pockets of his jeans, the muscles running along his arms hard and defined down at his sides. He walks away down the hall.

  I can’t even look Victor in the eyes. I look at the floor instead.

  “She was only trying to get under your skin, Izabel,” he says. “To prove a point.”

  I raise my eyes to him, filled with anger and exhaustion.

  “And a point she proved. Bra-vo.” I sneer and begin to pace again.

  “Are you…threatened by her?” he asks with heavy curiosity in his voice.

  “No,” I say, though it’s not entirely true. “Victor, I know what just happened made me look like some crazy, jealous, psycho girlfriend, and yeah my reaction was triggered by the things she said to you, but that wasn’t the only reason I went in there. I trust you, OK? That’s not what this is about—this has gone on long enough. The way she’s fucking with all of our heads.” I grit my teeth and clench my fists and my breathing picks up. “And you want to know what enrages me the most about all of this? You want to know what really and honestly triggered me going in there?”

  I step right up to him.

  He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.

  “I’ve been trying to find excuses as to why any of us would put ourselves through this,” I begin, my voice stiffening with every syllable. “None of us, certainly not you, would even give this bitch five minutes of our time in any other situation. The cleaners would’ve already mopped her blood up off the floor and gotten rid of her body by now.” I pause, trying to steady my breath and to arrange my words because what I’m about to say is going to leave a bitter taste on my tongue. “The only reason any of us are going through this ridiculous bullshit is because of the innocent people we love, because of ties to the outside world that we—I—just can’t cut.” I slash a hand through the air, angry at the truth.

  We stare into each other’s eyes for a short but tense moment. There’s something else I want to say, about Dina, but I’m afraid. I’m afraid because my heart tells me it’s true, and I don’t want it to be.

  I glance down at the floor again, but only for a fleeting moment when I resolve to lay it out on the table, regardless of how much I fear the truth.

  “You have no intentions in confessing to Nora, do you?”

  He says nothing.

  “What she said is true, isn’t it?” I go on, my heart pounding violently. “You’re not going to tell her anything because your organization is more important to you than I am.”

  Victor just looks at me, but I see something shift in his green-blue eyes, something so faint that I can’t decipher. I want it to be disbelief, heartbreak, something that would indicate my accusation is wrong and unfounded. But I’m left with nothing. No words. No answer of any kind, which to me can only mean one thing.

  I storm away in the opposite direction that Niklas had gone, and leave Victor standing there.

  I sit alone outside on the roof of the five-story building, looking down at the city streets; very few cars weaving through them casually this late hour. A stoplight out ahead has been red for five minutes at least; the single car waiting for it to turn green just sitting there patiently. So unlike me, who would’ve blazed through it angrily by now and flipped the camera off on my way. I laugh derisively to myself thinking about the irony.

  The night air is cool, but not cold. A gentle breeze brushes through my hair and although it’s not much, it’s peaceful and I’ll take what I can get. I don’t know why I never thought to come out here before; there’s no shortage of stress in my life, that’s for sure.

  The clock is ticking. I don’t know what time it is anymore because I left my phone in the surveillance room, but I know the Dark Hour is so close I can feel the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders. I’ve given up hope in saving Dina from all of this, from my stupid decisions dating back to when I first decided I wanted this life. I could’ve just stayed with her and lived as normal as anyone else, but I chose a path that, even if by some miracle she lives through this, will always put her in danger. Dina doesn’t deserve this. But I was selfish and wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself when I chose this life. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know she’d be in harm’s way, it’s still my fault.

  The light turns green and the car slowly rolls through the intersection. I watch it until the brake lights blink out when it slips behind a nearby building.

  “It’s a nice night,” I hear James Woodard say from somewhere behind me.

  I don’t respond and I don’t look at him. I sit on the roof with my legs drawn up bent at the knees, my arms wrapped
loosely around them, my back in a hunched position.

  James sits down next to me, shuffling awkwardly on his weight so he doesn’t fall over. The smell of his thick cologne passes me on a breeze.

  “I wanted to tell you what Sarah and Ann-Marie had to say. I was startin’ to think you’d run off somewhere. Couldn’t find you and no one knew where you were.”

  “What did they say?” I ask, deadpanned. “Your daughters?”

  I keep my eyes on the sleeping city.

  “Well, seems they only saw Nora,” he says. “She was waitin’ inside the house when they came back from a friend’s. They said at first she claimed she was there to take them to safety, but Ann-Marie didn’t trust her and she started screamin’ hoping the neighbors would hear. That’s when Nora knocked her out cold with the butt of a gun. Sarah stood there watchin’, terrified and couldn’t move, poor thing—she always was the deer-in-headlights type. Next thing they knew they were in a trunk and rode like that for about thirty, forty-five minutes. She kept them in a house out in the middle of nowhere, tied to some furniture or somethin’. But anyway, they finally got the ropes loose and made a run for it. They hitchhiked on the highway—to think my daughters were out there alone on a dark highway like that, it makes me want to shoot that woman myself.”

  “Are they OK?” I ask, still looking out ahead.

  “Yeah,” he says. “She didn’t hurt them really. Just scared them mostly. But I’m glad they got free—I don’t want to think about what Nora would’ve done if—.” He stops, realizing he’s treading all too familiar waters. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s OK, James. I’m glad your daughters are safe.”

  I see him nod in my peripheral vision.

  “The boss said that Nora must be working alone, or else she would’ve left someone there with my daughters. They wouldn’t have gotten away.”

  I nod, agreeing with that assessment, but can’t find it in me to engage him in conversation. I really wanted to spend this time out here alone, just me and my thoughts, but I don’t have the heart or the energy to tell James to leave. He really isn’t a bad guy, and I kind of feel sorry for him—he’s always trying to make Victor proud of him, or to join in on Niklas and Dorian’s casual conversations, but he never really quite fits in. And Fredrik, well James admires him for some baffling reason, to the point of it being kind of pathetic. But Fredrik apparently doesn’t believe in friendship so James doesn’t have a chance and never will because lions just don’t eat with zebras.