Vegas Moon

1.

29 Hours Earlier…

The chip in my head can be activated by tapping a four-digit code into a device that looks like a wrist watch. When the code is entered, the chip heats up and starts liquefying my brain. Do that to me, and you better have fresh batteries and type in the right code, because if you don’t, I’m going to come for you.

It’s not personal.

I know you’ve got a life, a loving spouse, two apple-cheeked kids, three dogs, four cats and five parakeets. Or maybe you live alone in a basement apartment with a single window that’s half dirt and half sky, and you dine nightly on canned cat food while fantasizing about large, hairy women in boxer shorts who could win the limbo contest if the people on either end would just raise the fucking bar!

Either way, you’ve got a life, and as far as I’m concerned, you deserve to live it without interference from me.

Until you press those buttons.

Do that, and your life belongs to me.

I’m Donovan Creed, former CIA assassin, sometime hit man for the mob. I currently head up a team of assassins who kill suspected terrorists for Uncle Sam. I can be your best friend or your worst nightmare.

But you should know I don’t have many friends.

I’m a tolerant, even-tempered guy who likes the same things you do: long walks on the beach at sunset, holding hands, romantic candlelit dinners featuring great food and premium Kentucky bourbon, making love under the stars with high-end call girls, torturing, maiming and killing bad guys…

I’m not a bully.

Random comment, I know, but God, I hate bullies.

I’ve been told I have a hero complex, which means I feel compelled to help those in need. Personally, I think the world would be a better place if more people get involved when bad things go down. But apparently the fact I feel compelled to help people, instead of choosing to help them—makes me something of a sociopath. Let’s say it this way: if you’re a bully—and that word covers a lot of ground with me—it won’t take long for you to see something no one wants to see:

The man I keep hid.

To prevent that from happening, don’t fuck with the U.S.A., and don’t fuck with me, or the people I care about.

Which brings me to the buzz I felt in my head a few hours ago. The one caused not by alcohol, but by someone attempting to activate the kill chip in my brain.

I’d been enjoying a lovely dinner with Miranda, a particularly attractive young lady of the evening. We were in New York City, had the whole night ahead of us. I didn’t cancel the date, because we’d been looking forward to it for weeks. In the end, we had a great time despite the fact someone was trying to kill me.

Here’s what I know about the kill chip: it was grafted to my brain more than a year ago by the government surgeon who heads the hospital at Sensory Resources, a secret facility in north-west Virginia, where I have an office and a jail cell I sleep in from time to time. By choice. Doc Howard implanted the chip while I was in a coma, under his care. Unfortunately, it can’t be removed without rendering me brain dead. When I found out what he’d done, guess what I did about it?

Nothing.

Crazy, right? But as it turned out, Doc had been following orders from my boss, Darwin, who wanted the means to snuff me at will. By telling me about the chip, Doc Howard did me a favor, though he charged me a hundred million dollars. He gave me a controller, the code, and showed me how to change it. As a plus, he explained that if Darwin ever tried to kill me, I’d feel a buzzing in my head.

But the buzzing I felt at dinner had nothing to do with Darwin. I know, because the device requires GPS, and Darwin was in an underground bunker all night, hosting a Homeland Security Meeting.

Miranda gives me a long, sensual kiss and asks me to stay. I know it’s part of the service, and she doesn’t mean it, but it’s nice to hear, anyway. I mean, she obviously likes me more than she has to, but I maintain no illusions about our relationship. It’s tit for cash. Still, had the attempt on my life not been made, I would’ve stayed.

I love falling asleep in a woman’s arms.

Reluctantly, I leave Miranda’s house and walk to my limo. After getting comfortable, I call Doc Howard, who predictably complains about the time of night. I tell him about the buzzing in my head earlier, and he says he’ll look into it.

I say, “Look into it now, because I’m coming to see you.”

I get Lou Kelly, my facilitator, to book me a jet helicopter. He does, but it won’t be ready for two hours. My limo driver takes me back to the hotel to pack my bags and check out. Then we wait an hour by the private airstrip till the chopper shows up.

An hour after that I land on the Sensory Resources helipad. I have enough time to take a shower and drink a protein shake before meeting with Doc Howard. When he finally arrives, I start right in on him. “Two weeks ago I wired a hundred million to your offshore account in return for a bypass code.”

“Yes.” Doc Howard is visibly nervous, as he should be. Who can blame him? I’m not happy.

“You told me no one else had access to the code,” I say, knowing that’s not entirely true.

“I said to the best of my knowledge no one had it, but if someone did, and tried to access it, you’d feel buzzing in your head.”

“Only problem is, I don’t know who pressed the button last night.”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Doc said.

“And?”

“There was someone present when I implanted the chip.”

“What? Who?”

“The medical director of the company that manufactured it.”

“And you decided not to tell me this because?”

“I was afraid you’d kill her, to tie up the loose end.”

“I didn’t kill you.”

“No, but at the time, I didn’t know you could be reasoned with.”

“I try to give people a chance, Doc.”

“You would have killed her.”

“Probably. In the end. I mean, I’m walking around with a bomb in my head and she’s got the code that can set it off. She’s a major threat.”

“I didn’t consider her a threat at the time.”

“Because?”

“I thought she had no way to access the code, once we changed it.”

“But that wasn’t true, was it?”

“Apparently not. I think the company lied about the device.”

“You’re quite astute. I hadn’t realized till now.”

“I note your sarcasm,” Doc Howard says, “But yes. There has to be a master device that can reset the code.”

I shake my head.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“That’s comforting.”

Doc Howard is short, pudgy, middle aged, with thick glasses and a kindly grandfather’s face. He’s looking at me with less fear than he’d shown earlier. He knows he’s valuable to me for reasons that would take too long to list.

But I’ll give you one: he does all our body-double surgeries. I’ve got people all over the country guarding other people who don’t even know they’re being guarded. They’re body-doubles for my hit squad, my family, my closest friends. I need Doc Howard, and we’ve always gotten along. I don’t resent him charging me for sharing his secret. Proves he trusts me more than he trusts Darwin.

On the other hand, who wouldn’t?

“I want names and addresses,” I say.

“Her name is Phyllis Willis.”

I look at him. “Don’t make me lose my patience.”

“Swear to God, that’s her name: Dr. Phyllis Willis.”

“And she works where?”

“Ropic Industries, Las Vegas.”

“What do they do?”

“I don’t know. Darwin set it up. I only know about the chip.”

“Is Dr. Willis in-house?”

“No. She’s a plastic surgeon.”

“In Vegas?”

“I think so. But wherever she is, I’m sure Lou Kelly’s guys can find her.”

“We didn’t have this conversation, Doc.”

“Of course not.”

I pause. “You should’ve told me.”

“I was trying to save a life. I’m sorry.”

I turn to leave. Doc Howard says, “Phyllis thinks your name is Connor Payne.”

“What?”

“That’s the name—”

I hold up my hand. “I remember. That’s good. I can use it to my advantage.”

He nods, relieved.