The Darkest Day

FORTY-FOUR

Victor heard the soft click of a hammer being cocked behind him, so he did as he was told. When he turned round he saw why he hadn’t heard her enter. She had no shoes on her feet.

‘You’re not very smart,’ Guerrero said. ‘Are you?’

‘Try not to judge me on my recent actions. I’m usually a lot better at this.’

Wallinger said, ‘At debt collecting?’ and drew his own gun.

He didn’t cock it, Victor noted, so he knew they weren’t planning on killing him. At least, not yet.

Guerrero stepped into the lounge and gestured for Victor to back up. He did, until he was equidistant between them. He glanced around at the Spartan furnishings. There was nothing he could use as an improvised weapon or even as a distraction.

‘I’d like my badge back,’ Wallinger said.

Victor tossed it to him. He caught it in his left hand as effortlessly as Victor had.

‘Who are you?’ Guerrero asked. ‘And why do you look like shit?’

‘You know who I am,’ Victor said.

‘Sure we do.’

Wallinger said, ‘I’d like to see your ID again.’

‘I lost it.’

‘Sure you did,’ Guerrero said. ‘What happened to your clothes?’

‘I traded them.’

‘With who, a bum?’ Guerrero asked.

‘I’m a humanitarian.’

Wallinger said, ‘Quit with the bullshit, pal. You’re fooling no one.’

Victor remained silent. He didn’t know what they knew. He didn’t know who they were. He didn’t know what they wanted. Until he did, he couldn’t afford to tell them anything.

‘You want to find Angelica Margolis, yes?’

He didn’t answer.

Wallinger said, ‘We know you do. You told us so. You’re in her apartment for the second time in one day. There’s no use choosing to play dumb with us now. One way or another you’re gonna talk.’

Guerrero added, ‘We know you’re not really a debt collector. Why don’t you tell us what Miss Margolis has done to you and we can help each other out?’

He looked at both of them in turn, still not knowing whether they were who they claimed to be.

She continued: ‘Do you know that’s not her real name? Do you know she’s an enemy of state? She’s a terrorist. Do you know what that means? She’s way more dangerous than you could possibly know. You may think you’re something of a badass enforcer, but you’re punching way above your weight with this one. Whatever she’s done to you or whoever you work for, you want to back out. We can help you do that. Trust us.’

Trust…

‘How?’ he asked.

Guerrero glanced at Wallinger. They thought they were making progress. Guerrero even lowered her gun to make herself seem less threatening; more trustworthy.

‘Do you know where she is?’ Wallinger asked.

‘No,’ Victor said.

Wallinger said, ‘But you know where she’s going to be, don’t you? She’s coming back here, isn’t she? That’s why you’re here.’

Victor nodded and pretended not to see the glimmer in Wallinger’s eye.

‘When?’ he asked.

‘Thirty minutes,’ Victor answered. ‘Give or take. Probably closer to an hour, given the blackout.’

Guerrero said, ‘And you know this how?’

‘I have my sources.’

Wallinger took out his phone and tried to make a call. He growled in frustration and looked at Guerrero. ‘We’re on our own here.’

She shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘What has Raven done?’ Victor asked.

Guerrero’s head couldn’t twist his way fast enough. Wallinger didn’t blink.

‘How do you know that code name?’ Guerrero asked.

‘Code name?’ Victor said with eyebrows raised. ‘I thought it was merely a nickname.’

Guerrero relaxed. ‘You don’t need to know the full details. She’s a very bad person. That’s all you need to remember. Be grateful you haven’t actually found her yet.’

Victor glanced at Wallinger. He hadn’t moved a muscle since Victor had said the word Raven.

Tension in Wallinger’s forehead pushed his eyebrows close together and created two creases that followed the vertical lines of his nose, making it appear longer and sharper. His skin was thin and seemed older than the thirty-four years his ID stated he’d been alive. Fine lines spread out from the eyes and corners of the mouth. Veins in his temples were prominent beneath the skin.

Wallinger said, ‘Who are you, really? Agency, right?’

Victor remained silent.

Wallinger said, ‘You’d better not be. You know you CIA guys aren’t allowed to operate on US soil. That’s our job.’

‘I didn’t say I was CIA.’

‘Freelance operator then. Same thing.’

Victor ignored him and said to Guerrero, ‘Mind if I clean up?’

‘Forget it,’ Wallinger said. ‘You’re coming with us.’

‘Happy to,’ Victor replied. ‘But let me clean up first. Unless you want your car to stink like me for a week.’

The two agents looked at one another, communicating without words, then Guerrero said, ‘Fine, go de-stink.’

‘But you’re still coming with us as soon as you have,’ Wallinger answered. ‘We have a lot of questions for you.’

‘Which I’ll be more than happy to answer.’

Guerrero pursed her lips, then said, ‘You know there’s no fire escape in reach of the bathroom window, don’t you?’

Victor raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t worry, Agent Guerrero. I’m scared of heights.’