Chapter 6: Black Friday

The room wasn't really dark, only dim.

People who have lived their whole lives in the LA Metro, or any major metro area, don't know what darkness really looks like. Driving into the area across the desert you can see the glow from fifty miles away. Light pollution they call it, the dense reflection of a million street lights, stop lights, signs, headlights — even the relatively small amount bleeding through the drawn shades of all the homes — all contributing to a haze of light that suffused the entire area. Thanks to modern power technology, a complete power blackout is almost impossible in most cities. In the instant an overload occurs, automatic switches flip themselves, isolating the problem and routing around it. Of course, at the same time, major problems had a tendency to black out entire regions. I think they call it a cascade failure, and the last time one happened it was dark over most of the Eastern Seaboard. Sorry, I tend to ramble when I'm nervous.

The light coming in the window, combined with the small glow of active technology, was more than enough to see by. It's amazing how much difference the light from a single LED on a computer, monitor, or printer in standby can make in a dark room. Add in the light from Allison's alarm clock, and visibility wouldn't have been a problem unless you were walking in from the well-lit hallway, and even then your eyes would adjust quickly.

I had left from the darkness of my bathroom; the only light in the room came from an electric toothbrush charging in its stand. To me this was daylight.

As soon as we arrived Jamie had dropped to a crouch, eyes prowling the room even as I felt myself pushed out. Once more I found myself looking down as my sister took over complete control of my/our body. Behind us the door was open, and that alone said something was wrong; Allison always kept her door closed, whether she was in the room or not. There was no sign of a struggle, but the bed was unmade, showing signs of having been slept in recently.

"The blanket is gone," I pointed out.

As silently as possible, Jamie prowled closer and inspected the bed, carefully moving to keep the door and window in view at all times and crouching behind the bed to prevent our shadow from crossing either opening.

"There is a spot of blood on the sheet," she said. "Small, but it really stands out. Let's check the rest of the house."

We moved to the hallway, and I was reminded of finding your way through a video game, with that gray-black fog that covers the unexplored territory, receding as you move.

We didn't have far to go to get to the master bedroom, and again the door was open. My parents' bedroom door being closed had been enough of a barrier to keep me from invading their dreams all my life. Bob had explained that it was more of a psychological barrier than anything else; I wasn't allowed in my parents' room when the door was closed — not without knocking anyway — so I stayed away. Like Allison's, and mine now that I thought about it, they always kept it closed when they went to bed. If that wasn't enough of an indicator, the French doors leading out to the patio were open as well. From outside you could hear the faint tinkle of the wind chimes in the light breeze. On the nightstand that would be my mother's, a tissue fluttered. The light was stronger here due to the larger windows and open doors leading to the patio area.

"This is probably where they came in," I said.

As with Allison's room the blanket was missing, so was the top sheet.

"They carried them out in the bedclothes," Jamie said. "At least they're all alive."

She moved out through the French doors and onto the patio. There was a body face down in the pool. The cloud of red around the body told us how he got there. The size of the cloud, along with the fact that it was dissipating and no more was being pumped out of the body, pretty much eliminated any hope. A dark patch next to the pool caught her attention. It was more blood.

"Bitch picked a fine time to give up tranquilizers," Jamie said. "Do you know how many there are supposed to be?"

"No," I said. "Jamie, we need to call Rod, but we need to find the other guards first. Let's do the house first, just to be sure."

"Yes, we need to find the other guards, but no, we can't call Rod. We can't explain any of this without him knowing we were here. Burbank was bad enough. He suspects it was us, even though it's impossible; Rebecca knows but is choosing to ignore it. If we start doing the impossible too often, they are no longer going to be able to ignore it. What they already know we can do is dangerous enough. Let's face it; there aren't too many people we can't get information out of. Having the ability to move a thousand miles unnoticed would scare the piss out of people who deal very harshly with anything they perceive as a threat, especially things they can't control. We're about two categories above that on the list. We're going to need to talk about this, but now isn't the time."

There was a dead body watching cartoons in the living room and another one on the front porch, neatly tucked out of sight behind the hedge. It was hidden from view, but the blood trail showed he had been moved there.

"Shit," Jamie swore. "Cameras; now we need to find the control room. There will be at least one more body there, maybe two."

"We need to hurry," I said. "They'll be here soon. The only place left is the garage; it has to be in there. They pushed that guy into the pool after he was dead — after they made sure the splash wouldn't alert anyone. Someone went out of their way to do it."

"Yeah," Jamie said. Just the one word, but it was all she needed to convey that she was just as pissed as I was. Someone was going to pay for this.

The control room was behind a false wall in the garage. Looking in from the driveway it would have looked perfectly normal, but if you looked closely you would realize the inside and outside dimensions didn't match up. It wasn't a large discrepancy, only about four feet, but it ran across the whole back of the garage; you could do a lot in eighty square feet if you didn't mind working in close spaces.

The refrigerator was a fake; instead of opening into cold storage, the door opened into the control room. I probably wouldn't have found it if it hadn't already been open. We needn't have worried about the video feeds; the control room was trashed; the machines they fed into had been reduced to so much piled scrap. The last body was sprawled in a pool of blood on the floor of the garage. His hands were secured with a wire tie, and he had been shot at close range in the back of the head. I could tell it was from close range because the hair around the entry wound was singed. I learned that on CSI, too.

"We need to go, Jamie; they'll be here soon."

She was careful not to touch anything as we made our way back to Allison's room. We didn't need to go back, but I was glad we had — otherwise I wouldn't have noticed the broken chain with the two gold hearts lying on the floor next to her bed. The hearts originally came from a pair of lockets I had gotten her and Shannon for Valentines Day earlier in the year. When Shannon died, we each took half of her locket to go with our own. Mine was in a small box in the safe back at my apartment. Jamie picked Allison's up, and as she stood I spotted her photo book on the dresser. Inside were pictures of her and Shannon. An idea was forming in my mind, so I had her pick it up as well, and then we left the way we had come in.

"What now?" Jamie asked once we arrived safely back in the glade.

"The first thing we need to do is to let Lizzy know we're back safe. She and Amber will be worried. Then everybody dies."

"You mean I get to kill whoever is responsible for this?" Normally the idea of carnage and mayhem got an excited response. I realized then that while violence excited her, and she liked — loved actually — a good fight, killing was something else. There was no excitement here; her mood matched my own. It was just something that needed to be done. It was good to know. I wasn't looking forward to killing anyone either; I was just looking forward to them being dead. I promised myself I wouldn't enjoy it.

"Yes," I answered, "but Allison and my parents have to die too; it might be best if I did as well."

"Oh, god!" she exclaimed, sounding relieved. "Don't do that! For a second there I had this wild thought you were talking about us actually killing them. I know I should have known better, but just for a heartbeat ... You mean we need to fake their deaths, so no one ever tries this shit again?"

"Sorry. Yeah, that's what I meant. I'll talk to Rod and Rebecca about it as soon as they call and tell us what we already know."

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"It depends on how Rod and his crew go in. I'd rather not think too much about that right now though. One thing at a time is about all I can handle, so let's go reassure the women, and then we'll see where we go from there."

I could tell Amber was distraught; it showed in her face, the set of her head, and the way her hands lay in her lap as she knelt next to Lizzy, who was stroking her hair unconsciously while they waited. I was so used to seeing perfection that the little differences I was seeing now stood out like stop signs. Lizzy, able to see enough just by looking, waited as I knelt before Amber and took her chin in my hand, delicately turning her head to meet my eyes.

"She is alive, Amber, and I will not rest until she is back, and those responsible are punished — this I swear to you."

A tear crept over the rim of her left eye to trickle down her cheek. I brushed it away with my thumb, and she leaned into my palm, closing her eyes and trembling slightly. She stayed there for a moment then pulled her head back and said, "Thank you, Master."

As soon as I stood up, Lizzy flowed into my arms and hugged me tightly. "I'm glad you're okay," she whispered softly. "How bad is it?"

"She took them all," I said, my head resting on her shoulder. "Allison and my parents; murdered the guards for no fucking reason!" I felt Jamie take the anger away before I even realized how mad I was. "She could have just as easily used tranquilizers on them, she obviously had them — they had to have used them on Allison and my parents while they were sleeping. I'm sure I would have noticed if anything had happened to them when they were awake. Allison at least would have tried to call me. Mom and Dad I can't be as sure of, but I think if they had woken in a panic ... I don't know ... and it doesn't really matter. What matters is that she's got them and that I'm going to get them back, and anyone that gets in my way is going to wish they had never been born."

I pulled back and continued, "This can't happen again, Elizabeth. I have to stop it here. I'm not going to let them keep hurting innocents just to get to me." I shook my head. "Four more people dead ... it ends here."

She closed her eyes and nodded slightly. "I know," she said. "It will be all right. I'm not worried about you on this one. Do what you have to do."

By 'this one', she meant as opposed to the first time I had been forced to kill to protect an innocent. She had wept for what it cost me to kill the two dirty Las Vegas cops that were hunting for Phoebe, the thirteen-year-old runaway who was the key that finally unlocked the pedophile slave ring I was in Vegas to stop. I had tried everything I could think of to find a way out of killing them; Jamie calling Sandra Atkins had been my last resort, but no one was willing to step in. Rod and Rebecca had no proof of what was happening and therefore no legal grounds. Atkins knew the truth — enough of it anyway — but wouldn't risk exposing her people by interfering in what was, on the surface, a legitimate police investigation. In the end I was the only one who could stop them. I knew why Lizzy had cried, knew what it would cost me, and what it had cost her to see me go through it, but the thought of what I knew they would do to Phoebe ... I would have paid more.

"I'm going to talk to Rod about faking my parents' deaths — Allison's too — so that no matter what happens, no one will ever be able to use them as bait or leverage again."

"That's probably for the best," she agreed. "You realize it will mean you can't see them again, right? Not right away at least; maybe not for a long time."

"I can see them anytime I want here, that's good enough. I just want them safe, or at least as safe as I can make them, but I have to get them back first."

"You will," she said. "I know you will. What are you going to tell Rod and Rebecca?"

"Just that I want them to disappear," I answered. "If it's possible, if they didn't attract too much attention responding to the safe house, I'm going to ask Rod to torch it; make it look like just another tragic house fire. They don't have to burn it down, just do enough damage to make it look real. I'll pay for the repairs. I just want them safe, and safe means dead. I can't take the chance that anyone else knows."

"Do you think they'll still be able to come to the wedding?"

I had to smile at that, and I could feel her respond to the change she had caused. She giggled and hugged me again then pulled back a little and got serious.

"Jimmy, we don't have to wait. I..."

"Yes we do," I said. "We made the commitment, and we're sticking to it. Now, if you want to move the wedding up, that's fine with me, and we can get married right here in Vegas as soon as you're here. We don't even have to tell anyone if you don't want to; I'm sure your parents would be disappointed if they found out. We can just keep it small and private, then let our parents plan a big wedding later if they want, but we're waiting either way."

"Okay. I want you, Jimmy, right now more than ever. It's probably a reaction to the situation, so I'm trying really hard to ignore it; but it's not easy, and I'm thinking really hard about taking you up on the Vegas offer, but you're right about my folks. They would be crushed if I don't do the whole big-wedding thing. And I would like my daddy to be able to give me away, but I don't know how much longer I can wait. I know I can't wait until after school, no way! Maybe until summer, but no way am I waiting four years! And if I try to talk to my mom about it that's what she'll tell me. And they'll never understand how I could be marrying someone I've known such a short time. I don't even know what to tell them about how we met."

"Well, I guess technically we met through your roommate," I said.

She smiled and gave me a little squeeze. "Yeah, that would certainly be true. Speaking of my roommate; Amber, get your cute ass up here and hug us; we need a little extra love."

"Thank you Mistress, I thought you'd never ask," she said, bouncing to her feet and snuggling into my arms facing Lizzy. "Forgive me for asking, but — am I in the wedding?"

Lizzy leaned across my chest, and Amber leaned to meet her. The kiss was intimate, soft, hot! Thankfully, they broke it off after a few seconds.

"Of course you are, silly," Lizzy said. "I couldn't possibly marry your master without you there. Maybe I should make you my maid of honor."

"I fear my honor may be somewhat sullied, Mistress."

"Why? Just become some asshole beat the hell out of you and raped you for a month? Girl, don't even go there! What happened to you was purely involuntary and doesn't count. Besides, even with that you've slept with what, four or five guys?"

"Seven," Amber replied.

"Seven?" Lizzy scoffed. "Girl, I've been with more than that in one week. Did Jimmy tell you about the time I blew the starting five on the boys' basketball team because I lost a bet?"

"Oh my God!" Amber said, shocked but giggling. "You're kidding! You didn't really, did you?"

"Yep, I did!" Lizzy said proudly. "Not only that, but I lost the bet on purpose. So don't talk to me about your honor being tarnished princess; I've done way more than you, and mine were all intentional — except the first one of course, and my rape was nothing like yours."

"You were raped?" Amber said, pulling away and staring at her in shock. "I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't know, silly. I never told you, and certainly no one else who knew would say anything. It's how I knew what you were going through, how cut off you felt, because I'd felt it myself."

My phone chose that moment to ring, and since I had been expecting the call, I reached for the nightstand and answered it without thinking, dividing my attention between the two realities.

"Hello?"

"It's me, call me back."

I switched phones and hit the speed dial for Rod's phone. As usual he didn't bother saying hello, but jumped straight in.

"Your parents and your sister are gone." Expecting a panicked response, he rushed right into the explanation before I had a chance. "Now that's not as bad as it sounds because it means they're alive, and as long as they're alive there's hope. It could have been worse..."

Yeah, I knew that already. "What about your agents that were watching them?" There was silence while he debated telling me. I didn't wait.

"They're dead aren't they? She killed them."

He let out a sigh, "Yeah, they're all dead."

"Rod, how much attention did you attract going in?"

"None, it was a tactical situation not an assault; we came in hoping that if things had gone bad, they wouldn't be expecting us, why?"

"Because I think you're wrong. I think..." the pause was just for effect. "I think we all died tonight."

He caught on right away. "You're worried that even if we get them back this could happen again."

"This can't ever happen again Rod, and if we're all dead, it won't."

"I hear what you're saying. How did you die? Do I just use what we found and say the people who you were hiding from found you?"

"No, I was thinking of something that wouldn't make the Bureau look incompetent, like a routine house fire in the middle of the night. You could probably do it with minimal damage if you were careful, and I'd pay for any repairs. Rod, I don't want any more innocent people to die because someone is after me. She killed your agents for spite. They had tranquilizers; they would have had to because if Allison had awakened scared I would have known it."

"You would?" He asked.

I realized I was treading on dangerous ground here, giving away information that I really didn't want getting out.

"I think I would have, for Allison. That's how I knew something was wrong — when she didn't show up in the dream I looked for her, and she wasn't there."

"Okay, we're getting into areas I don't understand, and frankly don't want to understand, so let's get back to the subject at hand. You want to fake your parent's, and Allison's, deaths."

"And mine," I corrected him.

"That's not going to get them back."

"I'm not worried about that; I'm only concerned with the future. I won't allow this to happen again."

There was a long silence, and I knew he was thinking of five dead bank robbers, a bloody warehouse, and maybe even two dead Las Vegas cops; he wasn't a hundred percent sure I'd done that particular job, but he had to suspect. Eight is a pretty impressive body count for a sixteen year old. Decades of historical research put Billy the Kid at no more than nine, and he took six more years to do it. So far, every one of mine was to protect the lives of innocent people, but I could understand why Rod was worried.

Finally he continued, "The fire is one possibility. Another is to publicize that they were kidnapped, and blame their deaths on the kidnappers."

"I thought of that," I said, "but again, I'm trying for a solution that doesn't make the Bureau look bad. A family that disappeared into protective custody being kidnapped from an FBI safe house is not going to instill confidence in future witnesses as to your ability to protect them."

"In this case it just happens to be true," he quipped.

"Rod, this only happened because it was Henslith. She's probably been raiding your database ever since she got there looking for information she might need someday. She's a professional killer, and knowing the locations of FBI safe houses would be money in the bank down the road."

"That's certainly true," he said thoughtfully. "I think I'll have Freeman take a hard look at the computers and see if she left anything behind that might still be allowing her access."

"Probably a good idea," I agreed. "Rod, I know what's worrying you. It worries me too, but can you honestly say there was any other choice for any of them? You couldn't even find Kurtz, and if you had and you had arrested him instead of killing him ... Even he was afraid of what might have happened. That's why he killed himself."

"Don't say any more, Jimmy. I know they were necessary; those men at the bank were planning on killing all of you, and the evidence all says they killed each other. Andrews and Charles were hunting an innocent thirteen year old girl to kill her."

"They were going to do more than just kill her, Rod. Andrews..."

"I know, Bex told me everything you've found out; she said even Atkins' people weren't willing to take action against them because it might expose them. And again, there is nothing to point to you. That's the part that really worries me Jimmy. If you went bad they could all be like that, just mysterious deaths with no clue to what really happened. Jimmy, I've been around this game for a long time. Killing takes a toll."

This time I was silent before finally saying, "Yes ... it does, but Rod, you've been around the game long enough to know that sometimes it's the only choice you have. I think the key is to not be the one making that decision. Not letting yourself be the one who decides. I'm asking you now Rod, is there another way? One on one, right now, you have a gun in your hand and one shot at Henslith. Do you take the chance? Knowing what it means down the road, do you give her a chance to escape? If you found her tomorrow, is there any evidence that you can use against her for anything? Or could she really just walk back into her life like we think?"