The Unnamed Buyer
2070 Words
The driveway was empty.
Marcus noticed it first. Claire's car was gone. Damian's truck was gone. The front door of the farmhouse stood open.
He drew his Sig. “Stay behind me.”
Claire stepped out of the car, her own pistol raised. “Where is everyone?”
“I don't know.”
They walked toward the house. The garden was trampled. Roses broken. Muddy footprints on the porch steps.
Marcus pushed the door open.
Inside, the furniture was overturned. A chair lay on its side. Coffee cups shattered on the floor. But no blood. No bodies.
“Damian?” Marcus called.
No answer.
“Kay?” Claire shouted.
Silence.
Marcus moved through the kitchen. The back door was open. More footprints led toward the barn.
They followed.
---
The barn door was closed.
Marcus pulled it open.
Damian was tied to a post. His face was bloody. His left arm hung at an unnatural angle. But his eyes were open.
“They took her,” he said.
“Who?”
“I don't know. Three of them. Professional. They came at dawn. Knew the layout. Knew our routines.”
“Claire?”
“She's not here. They took Kay.”
Marcus felt the cold settle in his chest. “Why Kay?”
“Because she has the list. The one from Lazar. They want it.”
Marcus cut Damian free. Claire helped him to a chair.
“How many?” Marcus asked.
“Three. Maybe more outside. I didn't see a vehicle.”
Marcus looked at the trampled garden. At the broken roses.
“They're still here.”
---
The woods around the farmhouse were dense.
Marcus circled through the trees, silent, Sig raised. Claire followed ten yards behind.
A twig snapped to his left.
He dropped to a knee. Aimed.
A figure emerged. Black jacket. Tactical vest. A rifle.
Marcus fired twice.
The figure fell.
Another figure ran from behind a tree. Claire fired. He went down.
Silence.
Marcus moved to the first body. No identification. No tattoos. Just a weapon and a radio.
“They're pros,” he said. “Mercenaries.”
“Where's the third?”
A branch cracked above them.
Marcus looked up. Too late.
A man dropped from the tree, landing on Marcus's back. They rolled in the leaves. Marcus lost his Sig. The man had a knife.
Claire couldn't shoot—they were too close.
Marcus grabbed the man's wrist. The knife hovered inches from his throat.
“Where is she?” Marcus growled.
“Gone.”
“Where?”
The man smiled. “You'll never find her.”
Marcus twisted the wrist. Bone cracked. The man screamed. The knife fell.
Marcus pinned him. “Last chance.”
“Safe house. Old church. Twenty miles north.”
Marcus hit him. The man went unconscious.
---
They drove north.
Damian stayed behind to guard the farmhouse. Claire drove. Marcus rode shotgun, his Sig reloaded.
The church was a ruin. Stone walls. A collapsed roof. But the basement was intact.
Marcus approached the side door. Locked.
He kicked it open.
Stairs. Darkness. The smell of mold.
At the bottom, a light.
Kay was tied to a chair. Her face was bruised, but her eyes were fierce.
“You took your time,” she said.
Marcus cut her free. “The list?”
“They didn't get it. It's encrypted. Only I can open it.”
“Good.”
Claire helped Kay up the stairs.
Marcus followed.
Outside, a car engine roared.
He turned.
A black SUV was speeding away.
Marcus raised his Sig. Fired twice. The back window shattered. The SUV kept going.
“They're getting away,” Claire said.
“Let them. We have what they want.”
---
They drove back to the farmhouse.
Damian had cleaned up. The furniture was righted. The coffee cups were swept.
Kay sat on the couch, holding an ice pack to her face.
“Who were they?” Marcus asked.
“I don't know. But they knew about the list. They knew about Lazar. Someone told them.”
“The unnamed buyer.”
“Yes.”
Marcus called Ashworth.
“The list is incomplete. There's a buyer you missed.”
“I know. I've been looking. But whoever it is, they're good. No digital footprint. No transactions. No communications.”
“Then how did they find Kay?”
“Someone talked. Lazar? One of his associates? I don't know.”
Marcus hung up.
Claire sat beside him. “What do we do?”
“We find the buyer before they find us again.”
---
That night, Marcus stood in the garden.
The roses were broken. The fence was damaged. But some of the blooms still stood.
Claire came out with a blanket.
“You're thinking about leaving again.”
“I'm thinking about staying. But I can't. Not while they're out there.”
“Then we go together.”
“No.”
“Marcus—”
“No. You almost died today. Kay was taken. Damian was beaten. I'm not putting you in that position again.”
Claire stared at him. “You don't get to make that choice for me.”
“I just did.”
She turned and walked into the house.
Marcus stood alone in the garden.
---
His phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
“You want to know who I am. Meet me tomorrow. Noon. The diner on Grand. The same one where you met Sarah. Come alone. No tricks.”
Marcus typed back: “Why should I trust you?”
“Because I have something you want. The name of the buyer. And I have something you need. A way to stop them.”
“Who are you?”
“You'll see.”
Marcus put the phone away.
He walked into the house.
Claire was in the bedroom. The door was closed.
He knocked.
“Come in.”
She was sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“For what?”
“For trying to protect you. For forgetting that you're not someone who needs protecting.”
Claire looked at him. “You're an idiot.”
“I know.”
“But you're my idiot.”
She pulled him onto the bed.
They lay there in the dark.
“Tomorrow, I'm going to meet the texter,” Marcus said.
“The new one?”
“Yes.”
“I'm coming.”
“I know.”
---
The diner on Grand was the same as always.
Red booths. Chrome counter. The smell of bacon.
Marcus arrived at noon. Claire was across the street, in the car.
The door opened.
A woman walked in.
She was young. Thirties. Dark hair. Expensive coat. Familiar face.
Marcus stood. “You.”
“Hello, Marcus.”
It was Sarah Vane. Silas's daughter.
“You're the unnamed buyer?”
“No. I'm the one who found the unnamed buyer.” She sat across from him. “My father taught me a lot. How to track money. How to follow secrets. I used his methods to find the person who's been buying the code.”
“Who is it?”
“A man named Gregory Stone. He was a client. One of the original forty-three. He escaped before the FBI caught the others.”
“Where is he?”
“He has a compound in Montana. Private army. He's been using the code to erase witnesses. Anyone who could testify against him.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Because I've been inside. I infiltrated his organization. It took me six months.”
Marcus stared at her. “You're insane.”
“I'm dedicated.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to finish what my father started. Not the evil part. The good part. The part where we bring these people to justice.”
Sarah pulled a USB drive from her pocket. “The compound's layout. Security codes. Guard rotations. Everything you need.”
Marcus took the drive. “Why give it to me?”
“Because you're the only one who can do what needs to be done.”
“And what's that?”
“Kill him. Not arrest him. Not try him. Kill him. He's too dangerous to leave alive.”
Marcus was silent for a long moment.
“I don't kill people in cold blood.”
“This wouldn't be cold blood. It would be justice.”
“There's a difference.”
Sarah stood up. “Then you'll let him walk. And he'll keep erasing people. Keep killing witnesses. Keep buying new bodies.”
She walked to the door.
“Think about it, Marcus. You have until tomorrow.”
She left.
---
Marcus walked back to the car.
Claire saw his face. “What happened?”
“Sarah Vane. She found the buyer. Gregory Stone. He's in Montana.”
“And she wants you to kill him.”
“Yes.”
Claire started the engine. “What are you going to do?”
“I'm going to Montana.”
“To kill him?”
“To stop him.”
“That's the same thing.”
Marcus looked out the window. “Sometimes it is.”
---
They drove back to the farmhouse.
Damian was waiting. Kay was working on her laptop.
“Sarah gave me the compound's layout,” Marcus said. “I'm going tonight.”
“You're not going alone,” Damian said.
“I'm not. You're coming with me.”
“And me,” Claire said.
Marcus didn't argue.
---
The flight to Montana took four hours.
Private plane. Arranged by Ashworth.
The compound was in the mountains, accessible only by a single road. Guards at the gate. Cameras everywhere.
“How do we get in?” Claire asked.
Marcus studied the layout. “There's a drainage culvert. Leads to the basement. It's tight, but we can fit.”
“Security?”
“Motion sensors. But Kay can disable them remotely.”
Kay nodded. “Already working on it.”
---
The culvert was cold and wet.
Marcus crawled first. Claire followed. Damian brought up the rear.
The basement was a storage room. Boxes. Wine racks. No guards.
They moved upstairs.
The compound was a mansion. Stone floors. Chandeliers. Art on the walls.
Gregory Stone was in the library.
He was sitting in a leather chair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked up as Marcus entered.
“I was wondering when you'd come.”
“You knew?”
“Sarah told me. She's been working for me for months.”
Marcus felt the cold settle in his chest. “She's a double agent.”
“She's a survivor. Like me. Like you.” Stone stood up. “She told me about your conversation. About your reluctance to kill.”
“I'm not here to kill you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To arrest you.”
Stone laughed. “You have no jurisdiction. No authority. No backup.”
“I have the truth.”
“The truth doesn't matter. Only power.”
Stone pressed a button on his desk.
Alarms blared.
Guards poured into the room.
Marcus fired. Damian fired. Claire fired.
Guards fell. More took their place.
Stone ran for a hidden door.
Marcus chased him.
---
The hidden door led to a tunnel.
Stone ran. Marcus followed.
The tunnel ended at a helicopter pad.
Stone climbed aboard.
Marcus raised his Sig.
Stone raised his hands. “You won't shoot. You're not a killer.”
Marcus looked at him. At the face of a man who had erased dozens of people. Who had bought new bodies. Who had destroyed countless lives.
“You're right.”
He lowered the Sig.
“I'm not a killer.”
He grabbed Stone's arm and pulled him off the helicopter.
“But I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty.”
---
The FBI arrived thirty minutes later.
Agent Reyes took Stone into custody.
Sarah Vane was arrested too. She didn't resist.
Marcus watched them lead her away.
Claire was beside him. “You did the right thing.”
“Did I?”
“You brought him in alive. That's more than he deserved. But it's the right thing.”
Marcus looked at the helicopter. At the mansion. At the broken garden in his memory.
“Let's go home.”
- Writer
