I stand from the chair again and Izabel intuitively reaches for the knife sheathed to her other thigh, collapsing her hand around the hilt.
“What the fuck are you doing, Gustavsson?” Niklas asks. “Have you lost your damn mind?”
“Yeah, seriously, Fredrik,” Izabel says, still with her hand on her knife, afraid I might try to take it from her.
“Come with me,” I say calmly and don’t give them the opportunity to ask what for as I head back toward the side door that leads outside.
“FUCKING BASTARD!” Kelly screams from behind.
We step out into the cold air and join Dorian who stands leaning his back against the steel wall of the building. He pushes himself from it and stands upright when he sees us, instantly on alert.
“What’s going on?” Dorian asks.
“That’s what I want to know,” Niklas says.
Izabel stands directly in front of me, looking at me with a desperate need for answers.
“This isn’t like you, Fredrik,” she says. “You didn’t even give her a chance to tell you anything.”
“What did he do?” Dorian cuts in and then looks directly at me as desperate for answers almost as much as Izabel. “What did you do, man? Oh shit, did you kill her already?”
“No,” Niklas chimes in, crossing his arms to keep warm, “but I’m starting to wonder if it’s a good idea to let him go back in there because he just might.” He looks at me coldly. “She’s not the target.”
“She’s in on it,” I say and silence ensues for an intense moment.
I go on as they’re all looking at me, waiting for answers.
“There was something off about her the moment we tied her to the chair. She’s not afraid of us.”
“She does seem a bit defiant,” Izabel adds.
“She didn’t put much effort into worrying about the boyfriend when I asked for his location, either. Because it was an act.”
“And she gave him up too easily,” Izabel says.
I nod.
“He stuck a goddamn knife in her hand,” Niklas argues. “I’d say that’s an easy way to make someone talk.”
“I got her to talk, didn’t I?” I point out.
Niklas thinks on that a moment and shrugs his shoulders underneath his black leather jacket. “Yeah, I guess I can’t argue with that. But damn, Izabel’s right; you’re not yourself tonight.”
That’s an understatement. This is the first time that I’ve ever in my thirty-five years of life been too preoccupied by other things to be able to carry out an interrogation, and I’ve no desire to even begin the torture. That is very unlike me.
“OK,” Niklas speaks up, “what are you thinking? We need to do something other than stand out here and try to figure out life’s mysteries. Let’s go back in there and find out where this friend of Paul Fortright lives so we can find him before the other organization does, and finish this mission.”
“Did you hear what I said?” I gesture my hands in front of me. “She’s in on it. She kept saying ‘This wasn’t supposed to happen’, because she was in on setting up the hit on the boyfriend.”
“Shit, he’s right,” Izabel says with widening eyes and parting lips. She turns to Niklas. “The client is the father of the girl Paul Fortright supposedly molested. I saw the file. He’s a single father. His wife died last year in a car accident.”
“So what,” Niklas says, growing more impatient. “None of this matters.”
“It matters if Paul Fortright is an innocent man and Kelly Bennings and this client are somehow working together to off Fortright. Think about it. Fortright was never convicted of molestation. Now there’s a hit placed on him. Any other time I’d find that normal. Kill the guilty guy who got off on a clerical error. But there’s more to this than that and I know it.”
“He’s right,” Izabel says, looking to Niklas for agreement because he outranks all of us. “That woman’s shit stinks worse than any of ours.”
Niklas shakes his head and sighs with aggravation.
“We came here to do a job,” he says. “Not play detective and superhero games.”
He pushes his way past us, clearing a path between Izabel and me, heading back toward the door.
“We’re not a black market order, Niklas,” I call out to him. “If we kill Paul Fortright and he’s just an innocent man who the guilty want to kill just to get him out of their way, it’ll make us one.”
“He’s right, Niklas,” Izabel says softly from behind, “and I don’t want that on my conscience.”
Niklas stops in front of the tall silver door before opening it. His shoulders rise and fall and cold breath streams from his mouth as he turns around.
He reaches inside his jacket pocket and retrieves his cell phone.
“Dorian,” Niklas says, “head inside and stay with Bennings for now. Make sure the skanky bitch doesn’t find a way out of that chair. And don’t let her onto what we discussed.”
“Sounds good to me.” Dorian, likely just wanting to get out of the cold, goes back inside the building without question.
Niklas talks to Victor for several minutes, explaining to him everything that’s happened. And by the time he gets off the phone, it’s apparent just by listening to Niklas speaking to Victor that our mission has changed drastically. It was never about the money to begin with. The payday this job offered was a drop in the bucket compared to what Victor normally accepts.
Niklas puts his phone away in his pocket.
“We’ll use Paul Fortright to lure the other organization,” he begins, “and then we’ll take them out.”
“What about Fortright?” Izabel asks. “Not to mention that crazy bitch in there, and their daughter?”
“For now we continue to play the game,” Niklas says, lighting up another cigarette. “We’ll get the location of the house and let her believe we’re going to kill him and bring their daughter to her.”
He stops and looks at both of us with intent. “But we’re not to interfere in their drama bullshit. Victor wants us to take out the other operatives, leave Fortright alive for now and that’s it. Hell, we’re not even sure if this is even legit. You both could be delusional.”
“I resent that,” Izabel snaps.
“Of course you do, Izzy.” He smirks and takes a long pull from his cigarette, the hot ember glowing orange around his face. “But I don’t give a fuck.”
Izabel’s jaw clenches and if looks could kill Niklas would be a bloody pulp by now.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes against my leg and my heart winds up dead center in my throat. My first thought was that it’s Greta calling me about Cassia, but when I look down at the screen I’m surprised to see that it’s not.
“It’s Victor,” I say out loud, though more to myself.
I answer quickly as Niklas and Izabel listen in, as curious as I am.
“I want you to sit the rest of this mission out,” Victor says into the phone. “Go back to Baltimore and we’ll touch base in about a week.”
Confused and slightly concerned about his reasons, it takes me a moment to put my words together.
“I’m capable of finishing this,” I say. “Yes, I was quick to stab Bennings, but it got the result I wanted.”
“That’s what concerns me,” Victor says. “You’re not yourself. You weren’t yourself at the meeting yesterday, and we can’t afford mistakes. Take the time off and clear your head. It’s not an option.”
I sigh deeply and give in. As much as I do want to stay here and finish what I started, I want even more to go back to Cassia and find out what she’s remembered.