See, the Admiral, for all his uppity smugness, really has no clue how James/Tet operates. I suppose that’s why he instructed me to kill James that day. It was a two birds kind of thing.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts when the plane touches down, bounces once, then again, and we roll the rest of the way towards the small airport surrounded by cornfields on three sides.
When we come to a stop James stands up and stretches his arms above his head and touches the top of the cabin, pressing his hands flat against the curved plastic. “I’m starved too, McSmurf. And I need coffee.” He says that with a smile.
God, I love that smile. I might not like Tet all that much, and James is not one of those nurturing people like my dad was. But when he smiles at me like that, I absolutely love him.
Chapter Two
James
I watch the Smurf watch me through the smallest crack of an eye during our plane ride.
She’s making me nervous. She’s not asleep, but she thinks I am. She’s watching me, but she has no idea I’m watching her.
Jesus fucking Christ. I have no idea what I’m doing. I know things they don’t think I know. But I’m not even sure what to do with some of that information.
And I have no idea what Sasha is doing. I know she’s operating on someone’s orders. I’m just not sure who’s orders they are. The Admiral? She definitely was. But now? Not sure. Nick? Don’t know about that either.
Merc? Now that’s the real mystery. The one that matters most right now because he’s the first person we’re gonna see.
And Nick. I haven’t seen him in a long time, but Merc has. He knows a lot about me. Maybe more than he should. Definitely more than he should.
And so this is the test. Who works for who is a question I’ve had no solid answer to for a very long time. But pretty soon all the players will be present and I can sort it out.
But pretty soon is not now, so I need to just let it go. I’m moving forward on trust alone. I have to trust her. It’s my only option.
I think about Harper instead and that makes my chest hurt in a way that’s new to me. When I saw her lying on the floor in her old apartment—fuck. I stopped breathing. It had to have been no more than two, three seconds. But it felt like eternity. Slow mo, right? They say that in emergencies, time changes. And I believe it. I’ve felt that a lot over the years. When reality is so in your face. When death is right there—all you gotta do is reach out and he’ll pull you across that thin veil and make it all end, once and for all.
I’ve been there so many times. But the first time is the one you never forget.
Honduras. Twelve years ago. James Fenici, barely Six, not yet Tet. Already fucked up.
Even now when I close my eyes, I hear the spray of bullets. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn’t even load my fucking rifle. And when I finally shot my first gang member down in the fucked up place they call San Pedro Sula, I missed. The first bullet skimmed past his temple, just enough to ruin his eye, and give me a nice visual burned into my memory. Still, to this day.
I never even got a chance to fire a second shot and finish the job, because I was caught and the guy who was forever called Mistake Number One in my head lived.
But I’m sure he looked in the mirror every day and wished he hadn’t. I’m sure he looked in the mirror every day and told himself he lived for one thing only. To make James Fenici pay.
I was in custody long enough to be tortured by him personally after he recovered. They burned me. They choked me. Hell, they hanged me once. Not enough to break my neck, obviously, just enough that I had to stand on my tiptoes for hours… days, sometimes.
They say the reason I’m so dangerous now is because I never gave up then. And I guess that’s true. I don’t. I figure fuck this goddamned world. It’s got nothing I can’t take. All I gotta do is become Tet when the time starts to slow down and he steps right in. He’s got no problem blowing heads off and Tet does not miss.
If you’re gonna kill someone, you finish the job or die trying.
Because it’s no gusta hanging around to get caught or having to go back and try it again. Take it from me. I know. I got caught and I went back to finish the job of taking over the city they call Murder Capital of the World. It was like combining the worst moment of my life with a weird sensation of coming home.
I think that’s when Tet really started to take an interest in my jobs. I don’t consider Southern California home anymore, not since I left there when I was sixteen. But thinking of Honduras as home back then? That was a new level of fucked up, even for me.
It took me years to understand that I was different. When One came to rescue me from the Honduran gangs, I had an inkling. His third name is Shroom because his calling-card poison is amatoxin. Poison mushrooms. We get assigned a poison to use when we need to kill people for personal reasons. Mine’s the toxin found in the blue ring octopus. Classic James Bond kinda shit.
Tet the toxin is a blockbuster movie way to die, for sure.
But Tet the dude? He’s definitely more of a Goldfinger kinda character.
I don’t know whose idea it was to give us three names, but I took that shit seriously because when your job requires you to interact with some of the biggest scumbags on Earth, you gotta keep it in perspective.
Tet.
I can feel him inside me. He tips his hat in greeting. He’s relaxed right now. His version of winding down at the beach. But that’s because I’m with the kid and I think Harper is safe for now.