Revenge: Book 1 of the T.E.N. series, Page 3

Ten looked into the mirror over the sink. He hardly looked like himself, the person staring back at him, and all he had done was cut his hair and change its color. He held the gun in his left hand while he shaved with his other hand. He left the beginnings of a mustache and shaved the rest. He left his sideburns longer, too, figuring that he’d look like some hick once they grew in better. If he had that much time.

  Renda sat on the edge of the tub. She crossed her arms. “We done?”

  “Thanks for the help,” he said.

  “You’ll need it.”

  “You don’t have to tell me, enough has already happened.”

  “I’m sorry about that. I really am.” She looked sorry. “That brown hair color looks awful on you.”

  “That’s the idea for now.” He grabbed his things, walked into the other room, and threw everything into his backpack again, waving the pistol at Renda the whole time so that she’d follow him. “You can sit at the desk.”

  She plopped down. “Now what?”

  He took a deep breath and looked at his watch. It was 11:30 pm. He wanted to sleep. “We wait for a half hour then steal another car.” Ten waved the gun around again. “These people will be tucked in by then. The missing car won’t get noticed until morning. Gives us plenty of time.” He pulled the folded paper Russell had given him from his pocked and unfolded it with one hand.

  “You can put that down. I’m not going to run away.”

  Ten sat on the floor in front of the door with his backpack beside him. He placed the gun on the floor.

  Renda huffed as though what he did was unnecessary, but she didn’t say anything more.

  There were two side-by-side rows of names written in ink on the paper. One was labeled, “Team”, while the other was labeled, “Decision Makers.” He noticed that the first name on the decision maker list was his immediate supervisor, who he never really got along with very well. In Ten’s mind Griffin Bower was a pompous ass who appeared to do little work, bragged about his boat all the time, and hammered everyone else about deadlines.

  There were six names on each list, and he wondered if that was just coincidence. He recognized all the names on the Team list, and all but two on the Decision Maker list. Several names on the Team side consisted of scientists he’d either worked with directly or communicated with through project notes that went back and forth. These people were located all over the U.S. Maria Tanner’s name was there. She worked with Bailey & Bradshaw Pharmaceuticals in Michigan. She had signed off on a few of his circuit drawings, and they had talked several times over the phone. She worked in bio-electronic technology, so they had a lot in common. Sharon Pontrelli was on the list, too. He knew the name, but was surprised to see it. Sharon was a highly regarded chemist working on disease control. She won a Pulitzer for her DNA research on switching cancer cells off and on using nanobots. Was that what he was involved with? Disease control? It made sense. Until now Ten would never have guessed she was involved in the same project he worked on.

  The Decision Makers included Griffin, Ten’s supervisor at the NanoTech Division of Pi Industries; a Senator from California, Scott Cornhill; Dryden Smithers, CEO of Smithers Pharmaceuticals; Eric Webber, who sat on the President’s cabinet as Secretary of Technological Innovations; and two other men he didn’t recognize. Jacob Metzger and Jasper Ignato. He refolded the list. He would let the names percolate in his mind while he stayed safe.

  Ten opened the box of zip-lock bags and pulled one out, then dropped the list into the bag and zipped it shut before putting it back into his shirt pocket.

  “Figure it out yet?” Renda asked.

  “I will,” he said.

  “I believe you. That is if you live long enough.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You must if you’re still fighting,” she said.

  “Well, I don’t. But, as long as I’m alive, I’ll work on figuring this out, and on killing those responsible for Amy’s death.”

  “That your wife?”

  “She was pregnant.” Ten stared at the floor. He didn’t want to look into the innocent face of Renda Parke. He didn’t want to see her brown eyes staring back at him. He wished she weren’t even there, but he needed her at the moment.

  “That’s terrible.” She sounded sincere.

  He shook his head.

  “But you didn’t kill my dad. Maybe you can’t do it.”

  “I want the decision makers,” he said. “People always punish the workers, the doers, they never go after the source. I want the source to feel what their decisions mean. They think they’re off the hook because they hire someone else to do the dirty work. No, I want the decision makers.”

  “I believe you.”

  Ten didn’t say anything.

  After sitting in silence for a few minutes, they heard a few people talking outside their door. Men’s voices. Ten raised his palm to keep Renda quiet. Someone knocked on the door to the room. “Shit.” He waved the gun for her to come to him. “Get up,” he whispered. He held her in front of him. “Who is it?”

  “Give us the girl.” The man didn’t waste any time.

  Ten shook his head. “Not on your life,” he said quietly to Renda.

  Another knock. “We’re comin’ in, cowboy.”

  The lock turned, then the doorknob. As the door started to open, Ten shoved Renda onto the bed. He saw someone’s arm and shoulder enter the room and fear took over. He realized he could die right there. He kicked the door as hard as possible. It slammed onto the man’s arm. There was a loud crack and a moan. Ten’s heart raced and his instincts took over. He grabbed the knob and threw the door open, swung the butt of the gun across the first man’s head, then raised the pistol and shot the other man in the face before he realized what he’d done. He fell backward.

  Renda screamed.

  Ten bent to the floor and coughed. He thought he was going to vomit, but didn’t. He reached for Renda, pulled her in front of him, and walked out the door onto the walkway. He stepped over the dead man and around the one he’d knocked out. He held the gun pointed at Renda’s head. His hand shook uncontrollably. Over the railing, below their room, her dad stood beside a black Oldsmobile. “I’ll shoot her,” Ten yelled down at him. He heard rustling in the rooms around them, but no one came outside.

  “What do you want?”

  “A car. No one follows me.”

  “Done,” Torry said. “Now, give me my little girl.”

  Ten walked with Renda down the stairs. It wasn’t easy. He almost tripped when she went off balance, but he managed to right both of them without falling. At street level, he walked slowly toward the Oldsmobile. “This the car?”

  “Keys are in it,” Torry said.

  Ten walked closer to him, watched his face intently, waiting for him to make a move.

  “My girl,” Torry said. He looked worried. “Please, my little girl.”

  Ten saw where Torry’s nose had bled. There were a few dark spots on his shirt from the blood as well. He lowered the pistol, and when Torry reached for his daughter, Ten stepped into him and brought the gun around and cracked him in the head. Torry fell like a lump.

  “Daddy?” Renda tried to pull free. Torry reached inside his coat, probably for a gun.

  Ten held tight to Renda. Torry had made a big mistake bringing his daughter. But maybe his work felt mundane to him; maybe he’d never had problems until now, Ten thought. “He would have killed me as soon as I let you go,” he said into her ear.

  “No he wouldn’t. He’s an honest man.”

  “He’s a killer,” Ten said. “He killed my family.”

  “He holds to his word,” she said. “He would have let you go. That was the bargain.”

  Ten opened the car door and shoved her into the car. When she was settled, he threw his backpack onto the center console and sat in the driver’s seat. He started the car and drove out of the parking lot.

  “You killed that man. You said you we
re after the source.”

  “He got in the way. Look, I didn’t kill your dad. I could have. I could have killed you, too.” Ten’s heart raced and his hands shoot. His lips pulled together and he narrowed his eyes. “They would have killed me. Hell, they would have killed you, if that was their job. Like your dad did to my family. Well, killing’s not a job, it’s a sickness.”

  “Then you’ve got it,” she said.

  “It makes me want to puke. I’m only doing what I have to do. They do it for money. They don’t even know what I’ve done, if I’ve done anything wrong at all. They’re hooked up with politicians and corporations. They could be after the wrong man.” He clenched his teeth and shot her a dirty look. “They are after the wrong man.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” she said.

  “I don’t want to,” Ten said. “I just want to finish the job. They can kill me after that. I don’t give a fuck.”

  Renda shook her head. “You don’t mean that. She’s dead, you’re not.”

  Ten glared at her.

  Renda held up her hands. “When my dad died, I didn’t want to live either. Neither did my mom. She was lost. She drank. She treated me badly. She hated everyone and blamed everyone.” She touched her cheek and went quiet. “Eventually, she snapped out of it.”

  “I don’t want to snap out of it.”

  “I didn’t either,” Renda said quietly, “but I did. This isn’t the best life, but it’s a life. You’ll find that’s true for you, too. I’m sure of it.”

  Ten shook his head. “I’m not so sure.”

  Chapter 4