The Dead Don't Mourn

Chapter 1January 2017 The clanging metal door swung shut behind Adam. And immediately, a hundred different smells assailed him. Burnt meals, cigarette smoke, mildew, and the sticky-sweet scent of laundry intermingled. Then, somewhere in the darkened building, a baby shrieked, shrill, and loud. The voice of the frustrated mother, silencing them, followed. Sighing, Adam began his climb to the correct apartment. Head down, keeping to the back stairs. Not a single soul passed him as he trudged to his destination, grumbling under his breath. Eight A.M. in the goddamn morning. And this had to be the last thing Adam wanted to be doing and dressed like a choir boy to boot. Hence, his disguise of pressed khakis and a navy blue sweater vest; in the back of his pants, a semi-automatic, and a stack of pamphlets, asking the reader if they’d found Jesus. Adam sure as hell hadn’t. Clearly. Finally, on the fifth floor, Adam opened the door with his elbow. The sounds from the apartments grew louder now, the smells more pungent. Adam grimaced and made his way down to the end of the hall. Apartment 510. Calmly, he knocked and waited, listening as voices intermingled and a stereo pumped out loud hip-hop music. Adam banged harder. Inside the apartment, a flurry of activity. Finally, the door opened, and a pissed-off man, no more than thirty, answered. “What the f**k you want?” he snapped as distrustful, bloodshot eyes swept over Adam from head to toe. Adam smiled wide and friendly as if unfazed by the scrutiny and unaware of the danger. “Good morning. I’m with Faith Center Ministries, and I’d—” “Who the hell is it?” A voice called from under a cacophony of noise as music, snorts of laughter, and chatter drifted into the hall. Annoyed but not suspicious, the man called into the house, “No one, just some white dude selling bibles—” In a flash, Adam had him by the throat, a gun to the side of his head. The guy cried out, shocked, as Adam shoved him into the living room and kicked the door shut behind them. The living room erupted into chaos. Three guys in various stages of intoxication leaped to their feet, hands up, protesting. Adam kept his weapon pressed under his hostage’s chin, his gaze steely, missing nothing. On the coffee table, among empty beer cans and overflowing ashtrays, lay bags of white powder set up next to a scale. The whole place reeked of decay and bad decisions, of dashed hopes and dreams. “What the f**k?” The leader, Eduardo, cried, looking around frantically. “You FBI or something?” “No, I’m not FBI,” Adam answered, calmly, too calmly as he shoved his captive in the direction of his buddies. And then, without fanfare, he leveled his gun, moving from each terrified man to the next and shot them. One after the other, dropping them like a line of tumbling dominos. The smoke cleared, leaving Eduardo, eyes, saucer-wide with horror. “Holy s**t, man. Don’t shoot, okay?” “I’d sit my ass down if I were you.” Adam swung the gun in his direction, steady as ever. Eduardo sank into the cushions, his gaze skipping past the fallen bodies of his friends. “s**t, man. Wait just a damned second!” “Brookes,” Adam replied, careful to avoid the spread of blood as he leveled his weapon right between his eyes. “Word is you’ve been pushing a ton of H for his lady. H, we know he’s bringing in from somewhere else. Where?” “How the f**k do I know that?” Eduardo insisted. “I’m low rent. I ain’t got d**k for you!” Adam pressed the gun’s muzzle into his forehead. Eduardo shrank back, whimpering with fear. “Do you want to die with the rest of your s**t stain friends? Give me a name. Now!” “Miami, The Diamond Seas Resorts on Fisher Island, okay? Don’t kill me.” He barely got the words out, and Adam fired, shooting him point-blank. Eduardo slumped forward, dead. Adam stepped back, fascinated by the puzzled expression on his slack face. A faint mist of blood coated Adam’s hands as he looked down, spreading his fingers out, marveling. For a moment, a split-second, a stray image rose, Edmund’s pleading and terrified face came, and with it. Ian. Adam did as he had these last three months and banished those unwanted memories immediately. Instead, focusing only on the next job, the next hit. Hoping, one, might push him too far, be too much. Wake him up, but none of them did. Instead, the darkness grew. Overpowering and ceaseless. Fuck them. He stepped over the bodies he’d strewn upon the living room carpet. They made their living slinging poison to fifth graders. Adam would save his pity for someone who needed it, not these guys, not today. Not anymore. Assignment finished. Adam made a quick sweep of the contraband on the table, noticing a few scattered pill bottles. Quickly, he swept them into his pockets; he’d check the labels closer later. Mindlessly, Adam ransacked the tiny apartment for pills. Then, without giving it much thought, Adam stepped into the bathroom to continue his search. But, unfortunately, he wasn’t alone, as a man out of his mind with fear and drugs charged him—brandishing a syringe of all outlandish things. The lid of the toilet would have worked better. Adam grabbed him by the wrist and swung him into the wall dazing him before he could do any damage. Too late, the pointed syringe had scratched Adam’s side and cut into his sweater. It stung like fire. Furious, Adam slammed his weapon into the side of his face, blood spurted, and he went down. Before he could get up, Adam pressed his foot into his sternum. “Who the f**k else is here?” The man tossed the syringe to the side, defeated. “No one, I swear, please don’t—” “It’s not personal,” Adam said as he fired, once, ending his life. Before leaving, Adam checked the apartment for any stragglers, recalling Ian’s stern warning. No witnesses. No lingering. Sighing, Adam decided against going back out into the hall. He would try his luck with the ancient fire escape instead. Adam made sure not to leave prints on the window and stepped gently onto the icy landing. Immediately he lost his footing, bracing himself on the railing to get his bearings, the cold, winter air, a welcomed balm on his flushed and feverish skin. Adam swept the alley below for potential eyewitnesses, finding none, he began his descent. Slipping and sliding down the stairs one terrifying step at a time until he made it to safety. The snow was coming down heavier now, covering his tracks as he stepped out onto the main street, blending seamlessly in with the rest of the neighborhood as they maneuvered the treacherous city streets. Unaware of the killer in their midst. * * * * Ian squinted, trying to see through the mess coating the windshield. The sky had opened. Steady sleet and slush fell in chunks, darkening the skies and coating the roads with ice. Ian rechecked the time, tapping his fingers against the dashboard. It had been about twenty minutes since Adam had disappeared inside the shabby building. Panic built as several minutes passed before the vehicle’s door opened. Ian sighed, unable to hide his relief. “You got it?” Adam settled into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut behind him. They peeled away from the curb and into traffic. “Yeah, I got it. Diamond Seas Resort, Miami,” Adam answered, devoid of any inflection. Ian sighed, irritated with Adam’s monosyllabic answers. “Are you sure the info’s good?” Adam flung his head back. “How the hell should I know?” Ian checked him over from the corner of his eye, noting his tousled clothes and mussed hair. “Are you hurt?” “No,” Adam answered, flat and hollow. They drove on, the tension between them rising with every word they didn’t say. Ian stewed. The chill from Adam in the passenger seat deepening. “Are you sure you’re all right?” Ian had to ask, unable to bear the silence. He tried to put his finger on what was amiss. Adam sat, stiff and hesitant, his arms wrapped around his midsection. “Yes,” Adam responded, hissing between his teeth. “I’m just a little banged up, all right? And for your information, there were five f*****g guys in that apartment. Which, by the way, thanks for the warning.” Adam winced, and Ian threw a worried glance his way, quickly enough to catch the pain on Adam’s face. Adam grimaced, trying to hide his discomfort, but Ian wasn’t so easy to fool. “Goddammit!” Ian slammed his fist into the steering wheel, his frustration exploding. Adam flinched at the outburst, flooding Ian with instant shame. “I’m fine,” Adam insisted. Ian shook his head, unconvinced. “No, you’re not.” Ian jerked the car into a nearby lot and threw the car into park. Adam grunted, bracing himself. Ian, immediately apologetic as Adam groaned out loud, settling back in his seat. “s**t, sorry.” Ian surged forward. Adam stopped him, waving him away. “Let me see.” Ian fought to keep the shaky panic from his voice as he attempted to reason with Adam, but he remained hell-bent on perfecting his martyr routine. “You’re hurt. I can tell.” Adam shook his head, his arms curled under him protectively. Ian shoved his hands away, overcome to find a spreading pool of blood. “Jesus Christ,” Ian swore under his breath. “‘Tis but a scratch,’” Adam muttered, sounding far too ambivalent about the matter for Ian’s liking. “Seriously. It’s not a puncture, but I’ll probably need a tetanus shot. You don’t even want to know.” “s**t, Adam, did some f*****g junkie stick you with a dirty needle?” “No, he tried. I got out of the way in time.” “I swear to God if you’re lying to me—” “You’ll what? Stick me with another needle? Just drive us to a pharmacy, will you? It’s nothing antiseptic and a tetanus shot won’t fix.” Ian bit back the urge to argue with him, but he was right. As bad as it looked, the injury wasn’t as severe as Ian had first assumed. Only one of many Adam had accumulated with frightening regularity—a fact that had begun to concern Ian. A lot. “Fine. But don’t pull this s**t again!” Ian ordered as he started the car. Adam opened his mouth to protest, but Ian shot him a dirty look, fed up with his excuses. “I mean it. Don’t hide things like this from me. Got it?” But as usual these days, Adam refused to treat him or anything else with any seriousness. “Fine, whatever,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “You win. You always do.” Ian bit back a sharp reply, restraining the urge to lay into him. Instead, Ian put the car in drive and headed for the nearest pharmacy without another word. * * * * The earlier situation with Adam had left Ian unsettled. He continued to dwell on it even as he met with Katherine for their weekly meeting. But in the middle of his rundown of the group’s activities, she stopped him before he could finish his sentence. “So, when were you planning on telling me about Adam’s injury?” “He’s fine. We took care of it,” Ian answered. He shifted, trying to make himself comfortable. An impossible task when stuffed into one of her tiny Louis XIV chairs and held under her harsh scrutiny. “I thought I’d made it clear. Anything concerning Adam is to have my immediate attention. Is that understood?” Ian studied the floor. “Of course.” “He’s taking too many risks,” Katherine mused. “From someone once so hesitant to spill blood, he now seems to have taken to it quite enthusiastically.” “Is that a problem?” “Not exactly, except that bloodthirsty streak seems to extend to himself as well. And that is a problem.” “And how did you expect him to handle it?” Ian asked, surprising himself by confronting her with such a direct and hostile question. Katherine’s eyebrows arched at the challenge, her tone one of disgust. “And what was the alternative? You seem to forget that you’re the one who created this mess in the first place. With your carelessness. So I’d ask you to reconsider before you decide to question my methods.” Ian stiffened, his chest aching with every brutal truth she hurled his way. “After all, wasn’t this your idea? You picked the target, didn’t you? If memory serves me, you claimed this was a better solution than whatever her name was again. The fiancée?” “Allison.” Ian tried to hold her gaze and failed, shame crawling up his spine at the remembrance. “Yes, Allison. Anyway, he’ll make his peace with what’s transpired, and if not, he’ll simply live with it.” But Ian didn’t want Adam to have to live with it, any of it. Not when he could see, day by day, hour by hour, the way the memory of Edmund’s murder slowly ate away at the man Adam had once been. Neither he nor Adam had been the same since that night. Most certainly, they would never exist beyond their one time together, fleeting and gone in the blink of an eye. “The fact is, ever since, Adam has performed above and beyond both our expectations. If a bit of recklessness comes with that performance, I’m willing to overlook it, and so should you,” Katherine continued. “Is that all?” Ian asked, struggling to get the words out through the clench of his jaw. “Not quite. Costa. I have decided to put Adam on it, but I’d like you to run counterpoint.” “You want Adam to handle Costa?” Ian’s brows knitted in surprise. “He has his role to play, as will you. You should also be aware that I’ve asked him to plan Brookes’ hit. Despite a few rather reckless rookie moves, he’s good at long-term strategy, and it’s time we use that. Yes?” “Yes, Katherine.” “Good, now, leave me. I have more pressing matters than consoling your fragile ego.” Ian shot to his feet. Desperate to put as much distance between himself and her as he could. “Oh, and do remember what we discussed tonight.” “I will,” he answered, and he would, as always, every word, every curse she uttered in his name. He would carry with him, live with, and allow her to use against him as if it were his due. * * * * Later that evening, alone in his room and desperate for sleep, Ian tried to rest. But sleep remained a distant figure, hovering beyond his reach. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Adam’s face; at the exact moment, Ian had ruined everything. The gun exploded, and chaos erupted. Edmund slumped forward in his seat—the silence that followed deafening. Finally, Ian saw the horror on Adam’s face. Blood splattered across his jaw, his cheek. His expression of complete shock remained frozen in Ian’s mind forever. Then, the enormity of what he’d done slammed into him. “No, no, God no, Edmund, Edmund.” Adam fought his way out of his seat, shrieking and wild, and even Hector’s strength could not contain him. “How could you? How the hell could you do this? Look at me, you sonofabitch. Look at me!” But Ian couldn’t face him. His body and mind tangled and unaware of the other as the world, the walls warped in and out. The air was thick enough to choke on, singeing his insides like a bright and terrible flame. “Get him out of here,” Ian ordered, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. Hector held Adam still while Kalifa injected him with a sedative. Adam cried out in protest, kicking and fighting as he tried and failed to twist out of their hold. He cursed Ian’s name as they dragged him down the hall to the bedrooms. His horrified screams following him behind the closed door. Ian bolted to the counter. His gun, a heavy burden as he bent over, weak-kneed. Shoulders heaving as the panic washed over him in waves. The remorse was so overwhelming; he would have gladly allowed it free rein to crush him underfoot. Bile, hot and bitter rising—he rushed to the sink in time to empty the contents of his stomach. Adam’s hysterical sobs filled his ears as the pungent stink of his sick filled his nostrils. Ian wanted out, searching his terror-addled brain for an escape. No matter how extreme, how desperate. But before he could put his plan into motion, a hand dropped onto his own, sliding the gun he held out of his reach. Kalifa. She shook her head, a silent warning. Ian shuddered and returned to the life and death hold he had over the sink. His vision tunneling in and out, his chest burning. The strain, the scream locked inside, unabashed and terrifying. “He’s asleep now,” Kalifa said softly from his side. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay with him. But you need to go.” Ian could scarcely nod in response. His sight blurred through a film of unshed tears. He shuddered, blinking them away. Ian couldn’t get the words out; the okay he uttered, a strangled moan. “Go on then, get out of here,” she stated, severe but not unkind. “Hector will handle the body, and I’ll make sure Adam is safe, but it would be best if you’re not here when he awakens.” Ian agreed, wondering how he’d ever find it within him to face Adam again—lost under the mess he’d created. “But you come back to us, Ian. Do you hear me? Don’t leave us.” Ian nodded, once, twice, straightening, trying to control the shake in his limbs. “I will,” he answered, hushed and barely audible as she waited for him to add, “I promise.” “Good,” she said and took the gun with her as she returned to her watch over Adam. Ian raced from the scene, the apartment. Past Hector as he rolled Edmund’s body into a carpet. Ian couldn’t flee fast enough, ashamed by his cowardice as he left everyone else behind to deal with the fallout—the aftermath of what he and he alone had destroyed. Disturbed, Ian threw back the covers and turned on the lamp. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, slapping himself lightly to snap the memory from his mind. But it refused to budge. Ian dressed in sweats and a tank, thinking he’d tire himself out in the gym. He left his room and headed for the elevators but stopped when snippets of conversation caught his attention. Mei’s voice, followed by Adam’s (which, given his lack of sleep, caused a quick but no less painful jolt to the gut.) Curiosity got the better of him. Ian peeked into the room to see what they were into, distinctly hearing Brookes’ name mentioned. Adam and Mei were in deep discussion. Their heads bowed, voices low, their conversation dried up when they spied him in the doorway—a fact not lost on Ian. “What are you two up to?” Ian asked, irritated. Adam frowned, and Mei’s expression though less hostile, appeared reluctant as she answered. “Brookes. Adam has some ideas that look promising.” Adam shot her a pleading look as if not wanting Ian to hear of his plan. She ignored him, her focus on Ian, a slight challenge in her eyes. “More than promising,” she added. “Really?” Adam’s eyebrow rose as he glared at Ian from the other side of the room. “Yes, really,” he said, and from his side, Mei chimed in. “Come, have a look and see for yourself.” Ian joined them at the table, choosing the seat next to Mei rather than Adam. “I’m listening,” Ian said. Adam sighed. “Okay, well, first off, we have one decided advantage, and that is Brookes tends to use the same room every time he visits. So, I thought the easiest and most efficient way of taking him out would be by a sniper shot. See here—” He directed Ian’s attention to the tablet in front of him and swiped until he had several photos and the set-up. Then, Adam used his finger to trace Brookes’ suite to the adjacent hotel across the way. “This one here would be ideal. If you could get on that balcony, you’ll have a clear shot of Brookes’ room.” Ian leaned back in his seat, hands behind his head. “That is if you expect him to be wandering around, with the blinds open wide, waiting for me to blow his head off.” Adam rolled his eyes. “I’m getting there. Can I finish?” Ian caught Mei’s worried look. “Yeah, fine, continue.” “Okay, well, we would first need to find our way into that suite. We don’t want to rent it ourselves, and well, we couldn’t. It’s booked pretty solid for the foreseeable future. But, I looked into it more and was able to get a name from the reservation desk. Sandy Mulligan. It turns out Sandy, a junior at Alabama State, and three of her best friends will be staying there a month from now. So as long as we can keep them out of that room the night of the hit, then we can figure out how to use their suite to get to Brookes.” Ian thought it over. “Still doesn’t explain how I’m going to take him out when he knows better than to stand in front of open windows.” Abruptly, Adam stood, sliding his chair back harder than necessary before addressing Mei. “Explain it to him if you must, but I’ll pass. I’ve had about all the fun I can handle for one evening.” Ian relented. “No, sit, go on. I want to hear this.” Adam took his time sitting back down. “You’ll let me finish?” Ian stretched out his arms. “The floor is all yours.” “Okay, so obviously, I thought about the window blinds situation. It turns out there are touchpads and sensors control those amenities throughout the suite. But Vince is confident that if he can get into the security feed, he should also have access to everything else as well.” Ian nodded, impressed but trying to curb his excitement. The plan had potential as Mei’s self-satisfied grin seemed to agree. “So long as Vince has them partially open and gets him to step in front of them, we should be good. I trust you’re a good enough shot?” “What the hell do you think?” Ian asked, unable to curb his sarcasm. “I’ve never known him to miss,” Mei offered, and it surprised Ian, hearing her defend him. “Well, we shouldn’t have a problem then, should we?” Adam continued. “So long as you can get that shot and get out. I think we have a pretty solid plan, don’t you?” “Does it matter?” Ian asked. “It looks as if you already have this under control and sanctioned.” “If you’re implying that Katherine asked me to come up with a game plan, then yes, both. Why? Do I need your approval as well?” “You’ll certainly need my cooperation.” “Oh, certainly,” Adam returned as he swept his hands down the side of his face, sighing deeply. He turned to Mei. “You know, I’m wiped, and this conversation is starting to wear on me. Let’s rehash it in the morning, okay?” “Okay,” she agreed. Adam gathered his things together and wasted no time hurrying from the room. He threw a quick goodnight over his shoulder as he left, not directed to anyone in particular. Mei watched him leave before addressing Ian. “Is any of that helping?” Ian shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence. “He’s too smart for his own good. That’s his f*****g problem.” “No, that’s your f*****g problem,” Mei corrected.