The Face of a Rogue Read online

  He recited his cadence aloud. “Fuckin’ Punks. Fuckin’ Dion. Fuckin’ Ryker. Fuckin’ Jimbo. Fuckin’ Krystal.”

  Felix sat forward. What are you saying? He adjusted the view to see Raymond’s face. Felix’s lips moved in sync with Raymond’s. Over and over. The same thing, over and over. Felix frowned. Why, you little… Perhaps Krystal should know about this man. He tapped the keyboard again and popped another cheese puff.

  Krystal’s voice came over the ceiling speaker. “Hi, Felix. What’s up?”

  “Mmm…” Felix crunched his cheese puff quickly three times, grabbed his soda and took a quick drink. “Mmm…hmm.” He swallowed. “Krystal, my dear. Are you in a position where you can talk?”

  “I’m with Ryker. It’s just us. We’re in a truck headed to Tremayne.”

  “I trust your judgment. I have been monitoring the Perimeter.”

  “I’m going to put you on speaker.”

  “That’s fine. As I said, I have been monitoring the Perimeter. Outside your headquarters. There is something you must know about.”

  “What is it, Felix?”

  “Well, there is a young man running along the Wall. By his appearance, I thought he was a Punk. But after watching him for just a few minutes, I’m now sure he’s not on your side.”

  “Is he kind of muscular, faded blue jeans, a black leather jacket with a shit ton of zippers, and scraggly black hair?”

  “That could describe any one of you.” Felix smiled at his own joke.

  “Funny, Felix. Is the left side of his face really swollen?”

  “That would be him. I take it he’s not one of you?”

  “He was, but he’s not now. His name’s Raymond. He tried to kill one of our top commanders and threatened to kill other Punks. So what’s he up to?”

  “I believe he’s headed to Tremayne. But presently, he’s quickly approaching one of your outposts. This outpost is occupied with two guards.”

  “Thanks for that, Felix. We believe he’s not armed. If you have time, keep an eye on him at least till he passes the outpost. Let me know when that happens.”

  “Of course I will. Goodbye.” Felix disconnected the call and popped another cheese puff.

  Raymond’s breathing became labored. His jog slowed to a fast walk. Then he stopped. He bent over, using one hand to hold his ribcage where Ryker’s boot had connected, and supported himself with the other hand on his knee. He exhaled huge puffs of fog and coughed. Standing upright, he hacked a throat-full of phlegm into his mouth and spit. His knees weakened, and he sat down hard onto the cold muddy surface beneath him. He looked at the slime he’d just coughed up as it trailed slowly down the rock in front of him.

  Raising his head, Raymond gazed at the white cloud that was now his world. He squinted into the haze and reached inside his leather jacket. Yes! he thought, pulling out his sunglasses. He slipped the pilot-style shades onto his face and hooked the flexible temples behind his ears. He squinted again. A light in the fog. Outpost!

  Two Punks stood outside the remote outpost and warmed their hands over a burn barrel. The bigger Punk swiped a wad of tobacco from his mouth and tossed it into the fire. He stared, mesmerized at the sparks as they floated skyward.

  He looked up at his partner. “You see that? That was awesome.”

  His female counterpart rolled her eyes. “You need to get out more, Slade. That wasn’t close to awesome.”

  Slade backed away from the barrel and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather vest. “Let’s see what you got.” He tipped his chin up.

  “Tobacco’s disgusting. Whether you’re chewing it—which isn’t really chewing it, it’s just letting it sit in your mouth and sucking on the juice—or whether you’re smoking it.”

  Slade acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing she said. “So, what have you got?”

  She ignored him and rubbed her hands together. “You’re an idiot.”

  Raymond rose to his feet, keeping his eyes zeroed in on the faint light in the distance. The light was fuzzy, yellow, distorted by the cloud in front of him.

  He glanced to the right. Heavy mist hung in the air between him and the Wall. Following the Wall would take him into town, into Tremayne. He knew the light meant the outpost was occupied.

  He chose the faint yellow light, veered away from the Wall and resumed his trek. Ten slippery yards forward and the Wall disappeared from view as if swallowed by the fog.

  Slade stomped through the doorless entrance to the checkpoint guard shack. The thick, moist air muted the sound of his boots on the wood-plank floor. He reached above his head and tugged lightly on a dirty string connected to a chain attached to the single-bulb socket on the low ceiling. Pop! The flash indicated the fluorescent bulb had reached the end of its life. Motherfucker. He pulled his flashlight out of the utility holster at his waist and clicked it on. He shined the beam onto the chest-high shelves along the back wall. Jerky, saltines, canned peaches in heavy syrup, three boxes of pretzels, sardines, about ten cans of Vienna sausages, ramen noodles…ramen!

  “Hey, Lace,” he said over his shoulder. “Want some ramen?”

  No answer.

  Slade shuffled to the back wall and selected a packet of the dry noodles—spicy beef. “Hey, girl. You want spicy or not?”

  Still no answer.

  Slade shivered. He thought about his jacket lying on the front seat of the Humvee parked outside the shack. This vest ain’t cuttin’ it, man. He grabbed a chicken-flavored, non-spicy packet of ramen from the shelf for Lace and laid it along with his spicy beef pack on a small side table before turning to the doorway.

  A small cloud of fog swirled between Slade and the burn barrel outside. He clicked his flashlight off and tucked it into his waistband.

  Lace stood wide-eyed on the other side of the burn barrel. She wasn’t moving.

  Slade squinted through the mist. Something was off. He tipped his chin up and mouthed, What?

  Lace’s eyes flitted back and forth from Slade’s face, then to his right, then back.

  He glanced down at Lace’s thigh. Pistol, he thought. No pistol in the holster. He reached around to the back of his waistband. Dammit! He’d meant to go on a diet. His pants were tight—too tight at the waist. Dammit! Fuck the Ramen! His fat, calloused fingers slipped off the grip of his 9mm pistol. He pushed his stomach at the waistband with his free hand, attempting to send slack to the back of his jeans. Damn!

  Lace bent at the waist and nodded hard, urging Slade, rooting for him with each tug at the handgun.

  Slade managed to shove two fingers between the barrel of the pistol and his ass crack. He yanked firmly up, flipping the handgun out of his waistband. The gun clacked hard against the concrete porch in front of the shack. He turned away from Lace and glanced at the ground behind him.

  “Not today, motherfucker.” It was Raymond.

  The seven-inch blade entered Slade’s neck vertically, severing his jugular and slicing through the trapezius. His head tilted toward the knife as the bolster sunk into the fatty skin atop his shoulder. He recognized Raymond’s voice, but he never saw his face. His right arm went limp as his left arm flailed against the wood-framed doorway behind him. The sensation of falling backward crossed his mind as his heel stopped against the threshold and the fog turned to a misty black. Slade looked up at the guard shack ceiling. His left arm swiped the two ramen packets off the table as his body crashed onto the wooden floor. The knife was still in his shoulder, the handle resting against his cheek.

  Raymond didn’t look at what he had done. He stared at Lace through the embers floating above the burn barrel as he picked up Slade’s nine. Then he smiled. “Now,” he said. “You and me are gonna have some fun.”

  Lace had seen more than she’d planned on seeing when she left the Perimeter four hours ago. She glanced at Slade. She expected blood. All she saw was his face, his eyes open to the shack’s ceiling. Her mind flashed to his smile. His tobacco-en
crusted smile. So what have you got? Her mind raced. She couldn’t shake his voice. So what have you got?

  Raymond tucked Slade’s handgun into his waistband behind his back. It slipped in easily. “Where are the keys to the Humvee?”

  Lace looked at Raymond. His eyes were black. Wild. Evil. So what have you got? She turned and ran into the white mist behind her.

  Chapter 26

  I Spy

  Tremayne’s city manager looked up from his desk when the red light above the corner armoire flashed. He rose from his executive office chair behind the mahogany desk and walked swiftly across the room. The city manager swiped his hand over a pad on the wall, and the armoire door opened to the side, revealing the round glass elevator from the Hyperloop terminal below the city.

  The curved door to the elevator slipped silently around to the back, and Levi stepped off first.

  “Greetings,” Levi said. He extended his hand to the manager.

  The portly man bowed and grasped Levi’s hand with both of his. “Welcome, welcome, Mr. Aldrich.”

  Angelica followed Levi and stepped forward, standing at his right side.

  Dr. Rasmus walked off the elevator and strolled over to a picture on the wall adjacent to the armoire. “Hmm,” he said, eyeing the large painting.

  Curtis forced his way past Johnny through the elevator door and positioned himself on Levi’s left.

  The city manager smiled at Angelica. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He glanced at Levi. “I’ve become so accustomed to seeing Ms. Long at your side.” He paused. “Uh, Silver. That is correct, no, Mr. Aldrich?”

  Levi forced a laugh. “Forgive me, sir. Ms. Long is no longer with our organization. She is…” He looked down at Angelica, clasping his hands in front of him. “…ahem…Ms. Long is pursuing other interests.” He smiled at the manager.

  The manager turned back to Angelica and reached down to grab her hand. “And you are?”

  Angelica held her hand out as if she expected the man to kiss her ring. “I am Angelica DeMone.”

  “Mr. Manager,” the man said.

  “Mr. Manager?” Angelica snorted. “Okay.”

  “Angelica is our head of security,” Levi said. He motioned toward Xander, who was still gazing at the large painting on the wall. “That man is the preeminent Dr. Xander Rasmus.” His huge forced smile appeared unnatural. “Dr. Rasmus, please come here.”

  Xander swiveled at the waist, then turned back to the picture. “Pardon me, is this a historical depiction of Tremayne?”

  The city manager waddled across the room and stood beside Xander. “Yes, this is an artist’s rendition of our beautiful city approximately 100 years ago.”

  Xander crossed his arms and leaned back before proceeding to stroke his chin with one hand. “I like it.” He smiled and nodded his approval.

  Angelica rolled her eyes, then turned to face Levi and looked up at him. “Leader.” She motioned across the room to the pair at the painting. “Seriously?”

  “Ah yes,” Levi said, turning to his side. “Mr. Manager. Dr. Rasmus. Please join us again.”

  Krystal sped past the city limit sign and lifted her foot from the BearCat’s accelerator.

  “I’m glad you finally backed off,” Ryker said. “Visibility is like fifty, maybe seventy-five yards.”

  “I’ve got about 200 yards on you.” She glanced across the cab and smiled. “Enhanced eyesight courtesy of Dr. Felix Yaz.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He gazed out the windshield at the endless cloud of fog in front of the truck. “Not to be presumptuous, but you and Felix must have quite a relationship for him to do what he’s done for you.”

  Her smile faded. “You know, Ryk.” She shook her head slowly. “He saw something in me. He saw good in me.”

  “I see it, too,” he said.

  “Yeah, I believe you. But you didn’t see it at first. Not when it mattered.”

  Ryker turned in his seat to face Krystal. “We’ve been through this. I was late to the party. But, yeah. You’re special, Krys.”

  Krystal braked and turned right on Habiliment Avenue. Her eyes narrowed. “You guys ever get a bead on Curtis?”

  “Sorry to say, we haven’t. That guy’s an asset. We still have a team on it.” He looked at Krystal. “We haven’t given up.”

  “Looks like business as usual for the Bystanders. I say we park near the city center where Nico and the Amigos encountered the activity.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Ryker rolled his window down and poked his head out the passenger window. “Woo, it’s cold! Take the public parking up here on the right—across from City Hall.”

  “Got it.” Krystal slowed for the driveway approach and stopped the armored vehicle to allow pedestrians to pass. “There’s a lot more people here than I thought there would be.”

  “I noticed. That means there’s a good chance for plenty of witnesses if anything happens.”

  Krystal selected a parking spot at the end of a row facing the street. “Good chance for plenty of victims, too,” she said as she shoved the gearshift into park.

  Levi put his arm on Curtis’s shoulder as the five Changers exited the front doors at City Hall. “I expect good things from you, my boy.”

  “I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

  The two stopped walking. Levi turned to face Curtis and placed both hands on the young Changer’s shoulders. A smile split his mouth—his eyes were cold and hard. “Oh, I know you won’t.” He dropped his arms to his sides as his smile faded. “I know you won’t.”

  Mr. Manager held the door open behind the group. “Stay warm, my friends. You have the key to the city. Please let me know if there is anything you need.”

  The Changers walked abreast down the wide steps in front of the expansive three-story building to the sidewalk below. Traffic on the street stirred the fog downtown, dispersing the moisture enough to improve visibility.

  Angelica’s patience had worn past thin. “Where’s the demo, Xander?” She snugged the large collar on her wool coat up around her neck.

  “Are you cold, Ms. DeMone?” Johnny asked.

  Angelica frowned. “Did you just wink at me, Logan?”

  Curtis did his best to keep the party on task. He stepped between Johnny and Angelica. “I agree, Ms. DeMone. I’m anxious to see the doctor’s demonstration.”

  “Let’s get on with it, Xander,” she said. “Before this Goofus and Gallant show gets any more intense.”

  “Right this way, people,” Xander said as he hailed a taxi.

  Krystal flipped the mic down on her two-way headset. “Fred, it’s Krystal. Do you copy?”

  Silence.

  “Copy, Fred? You out there?”

  “Krys, it’s Fred. Go ahead.”

  “Yeah, Fred. You should turn right off the highway onto Habiliment. We’re parked a couple blocks down on the right in a lot across from City Hall.”

  “Got it, Krys. Over and out?”

  Krystal smiled. “Winter, did you copy that?”

  “10-4, Krystal. We’re right behind him.”

  Ryker gazed out the windshield and squinted. “What. The. Hell.”

  The pair watched a well-dressed man and a good-looking professional woman as they stepped into an electric minivan—the standard vehicle for taxis in Tremayne. Johnny and a young blond guy stood on the sidewalk at the bottom of the concrete staircase in front of City Hall.

  Krystal looked up. She felt the skin crawl on her arms. Logan. Her mind raced.

  Ryker swung the BearCat’s passenger door open.

  “Wait,” Krystal said, grabbing his forearm.

  Ryker left one foot resting on the truck’s step with the door open. He looked back at Krystal. “That’s fucking Logan.”

  “I know.” Her hand maintained its grip on his arm.

  “He’s the last known connection to Curtis. We need to detain him.”

  “I’d have agreed in the past
. But look at him. He’s dressed up, suit and tie. Totally out of character.”

  Ryker looked back across the street. “Yeah, so?”

  “First, we’re waiting for the others. We need Winter. Second, we don’t know who’s with him. I can’t see through those tinted windows.”

  Ryker pulled his leg back into the cab and closed the door. “Who’s that blond guy?”

  Krystal’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I mean, he looks vaguely familiar. But not someone I can put my finger on.”

  “What about that fancy guy and the woman?” Ryker said.

  “No idea.”

  Winter followed Fred’s vehicle into the public parking lot and backed into a spot directly behind Krystal’s BearCat. She switched off the ignition and turned to Silver. “Look. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that Krystal’s in charge of this operation. You gotta buy in and accept the fact I know more than you about the Punks and the Punks’ way. Just follow my lead. We’re supposed to be teammates.”

  Silver leaned against the passenger door and folded her arms. “Okay, I’ll accept that. But let’s have an understanding. You admit I know more about the Changers and their ways than you do.”

  “Well—”

  “And, you defer to me when it comes to facts about the Changers.”

  “I’ll trust your judgment on that,” Winter agreed. “But I gotta tell you, Krystal’s word is law on this operation, and my gut trumps everything.”

  Silver stared at Winter. “Deal,” she said, extending her hand, fingers pointed at her partner.

  Winter held out her fist. The two looked down at each other’s hands, then into each other’s eyes. They proceeded to remove their five-point harnesses without completing any semblance of a handshake and exited the vehicle.

  Fred and Thomas were waiting at the front of Winter’s truck. The four walked across the lot to Krystal’s vehicle. While the three Rogue Changers waited at the back of the truck, Winter walked around and tapped on the driver’s window.