Sandman (Unknown Identities #3) (8 page)

Matthew
’s car started with a deep rumble and he looked to the backpack where his key chain had been hooked moments before. “What the hell?” This guy had been busy and he’d heard far too much with his invisible act.

But with a Cleaner bearing down on them, there was nothing to do but run.
They had to take it one threat at a time.

Renata lurched toward the barn with a startled cry.
“Something pushed me.”

“
Go on,” he urged, as understanding dawned. A friend in UI was a risky thing. It wasn’t encouraged and it was rarely helpful to anyone but Messenger.

As
Renata darted ahead, apparently unwilling to get another shove, Matthew paused to address the agent most often casually referred to as the Invisible Man. His real code name was as elusive as his appearance.

“
You blew the kidnapper’s car,” Matthew said.

“
Well, yeah.” A strange giggle sounded in the shadows. “What’s wrong? You weren’t in it.”

Matthew looked at his own vehicle, one of the new muscle cars he
’d had modified to better suit his needs. If this guy hadn’t already tampered with it too, they might have a chance.

“
Thanks?”

“
Dude go, before you’re stuck here.”

More than a little
creeped out by the exchange, Matthew tossed the duffel and backpack into the trunk alongside his dismantled rifle and then slid into driver’s seat.

Renata
’s dark eyes were wide with fear. “Is it a trap?”

He wanted to comfort her, but he didn
’t want to lie to her. Not ever again. “We’ll find out.”

He held his breath while he
shifted into first. The doors at the far end of the barn opened, revealing the pale gray light of an overcast day.

Matthew relaxed a little as he rolled slowly toward the widening space. He reached out for Renata
’s hand. If he had to die, there were far worse ways to go than a quick explosion while sitting by the woman he’d never stopped loving.

Clearing the barn, Matthew followed the rutted track out toward the fields.

Hearing a three-round burst of gun fire, he checked the proximity of the threat in the rearview mirror. Beside him, Renata twisted to look back, her hand still clutching his.

“
Is that the man who warned us?”

“
No. That’s a ghost,” Matthew finished in a whisper, catching a profile glimpse of the man posted at the corner of the house, gun raised toward the drive. It made him feel better that Renata saw him too, but there was no way that could actually be John Noble. The most likely explanation was Messenger had subjected a new recruit to plastic surgery. Would it be that hard? In light of the things he’d both seen and done in training and on UI missions, it was surprising facial reconstruction wasn’t mandatory.

Fairly certain the Invisible Man hadn
’t rigged his car, Matthew stepped on the gas, eager to get Renata to safety.

“
A ghost?” She squeezed his hand. “Is that some new classification?”

“
If you’re going to ask questions using loaded terms like that, Renata, you’d better be ready to elaborate.” Matthew couldn’t spare her a look, the road – or more accurately defined as a lack of road – required his full attention.

He pulled a hard left between two fields, aiming
east to connect with the paved two lane road leading to the nearest small town. From there they could make a decision about how the next step to getting her out of Messenger’s reach.

He checked his rear view mirror, grateful the dim light and damp winter morning kept the dust trail to a minimum. The last thing he needed was a car chase with a Cleaner.

“It’s a long story,” she said, releasing his hand.

“
For both of us,” he agreed, fighting the car’s drift as he took another turn with too much speed. “Start talking before it’s too late.”

“What the hell,” John muttered under his breath. The Cleaner was nearly to the house and they were about to lose their narrow advantage. “This is no time for a Q and A session.”

He squeezed off three rounds into the grill of the approaching vehicle. The sedan lurched to a stop and steam billowed up into the cold morning air. John used the advantage of the resulting screen to move toward the barn.

“Nice shot, boss.”

John ignored the compliment and the moniker.
“He doesn’t get past this line.”

“
No way. I’ll draw End Game into the house and…”

“
Stick with the plan,” John said, when Ben’s voice trailed off.

“
Right. Why can’t I kill him?”

“
Because we’re not ready to meet the assassin Messenger believes is better than this one.”

“
Oh, yeah. Got it.”

John hoped he remembered it for more than
the next two minutes. He didn’t want to think about what could happen if Ben was caught working against UI. Right now he was the perfect mole, but it was a high-risk play that could backfire with a single misstep.

The Cleaner pushed open his car door, used it for shelter and called out to Sandman as if they were old friends. John buried another bullet into the doorframe and the assassin responded with a few rounds of his own.

“Moving to cover the back,” John said.

The silence was all the confirmation he had of Ben moving
to his next position. The man was damn spooky.

“
Hold your fire!” The Cleaner went on a predictable tirade about the busted engine. “I’m on your side,” he called out from the shelter of his car.

John watched as he assessed the charred vehicle
blocking the drive. “What is this, a new practice range?”

“
You tell me,” Ben shouted back through the broken front window of the house. “You here for training?”

“
I’m here as a damned courtesy.” End Game started forward, gun raised.

Courtesy? John would
’ve laughed aloud if it hadn’t given away his position.

Ben
’s voice called out again. “Sorry about that. My phone died and the woman resisted. I’m hurt.”

From behind the shelter of a tree John watched End Game approach, gun
at the ready. “There’s a new op waiting for you.”

For you too buddy, John thought waiting for the right moment to move again. Get your ass inside where we can knock you out, he urged silently, impatient for the plan to play out so he could assure himself Amelia was fine.

“Better pass it on. I’m injured,” Ben answered.

“
Stand down,” End Game ordered, lowering his gun a fraction. “I’m coming in.”

Finally. John had seen him before, but intimidating wasn
’t a strong enough word for this guy. Not just the physical attributes, though the height and brawny build were a factor. Not just the set-in-stone, void expression. It was the sense of utter confidence and control underpinning the man’s every move.

This guy didn
’t lose. Ever.

“
Today’s your day, my friend,” John whispered. “Your worst day.”

He thought of the way this bastard had walked out of a coffee shop with Amelia and his trigger finger itched to bury the next bullet right between his eyes. He hadn
’t expected to be the unpredictable part of this equation. That was Ben’s job. Taking a long, slow breath, John dialed down his emotions before they were all blown.

End Game had one foot on the first step of the porch.
“Sandman, drag your ass out here.”

John heard Ben making enough noise for an elephant inside the house as he went to cover the back door.

The voices were muffled now, but John knew what Ben was
supposed
to be doing. He waited, listening to the cadence of the debate. The injured ‘Sandman’ couldn’t come outside, End Game would resist going in.

The crunch of a boot on broken glass signaled John that End Game had entered the house. He braced on the back stoop while he listened to the ensuing scuffle, waiting for the all clear from Ben.

He was not ready for the gunfire. What the hell would End Game shoot at? Ben was as good as invisible and the plan was for him to attack End Game from behind. John moved in, gun ready.

“
All clear!” Ben shouted with childlike enthusiasm. “But he didn’t scream,” he added as John lowered his weapon and stared at the scene.

The towering assassin looked like a felled tree, face down on the dusty planked flooring.
“Why’d you kill him?” he asked Ben.

“
It’s a flesh wound,” Ben protested. “Followed by a tranquilizer. Man, you seriously need to stop caring about the bad people. I tried the plan and smacked him with the butt of the pistol. It didn’t work.”

“
Shit.” If End Game remembered he’d been attacked by nothing more than thin air, he’d know Ben was working against UI. “You have to get out of here.”

“
Relax,” Ben said, stretching the word out. “I let him see me.”

“
What the hell are you talking about?”

“
Like this,” Ben said.

He materialized in an inexplicable way magicians would envy. John studied him, deciding he looked like a modern
-day ninja in the tight fitting clothing in a dark camouflage pattern. Ben grinned and did a slow turn, arms out wide, as John stared. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“
No one does. Well, no one but me and now you. They all think I’m a lab accident.”

“
And you’re sure he saw you?” John asked, getting back on track.

“
Definitely. But he won’t recognize me. It’s been so long, no one remembers what I look like. They’ll think Sandman called in an old buddy or something.”

“
And he’s off the program anyway.”

“
Yup.” Ben faded from sight. “If we tie him up right, it should give them a decent head start.”

John agreed.
“If we’re lucky, Messenger might think there’s a competing agency at work.” That wouldn’t help Sandman’s cause much, but that wasn’t exactly John’s problem.

“
Well, isn’t there?”

John hadn
’t thought of this new stage of his life in quite that way. He wasn’t in the market to recruit agents, had no desire to do anything but fade into a quiet, less eventful life with Amelia.

Except
the two of them knew too much and, like Ben accused, they cared even more. Other agents were out in the world, men and women trapped by Messenger’s grueling system and questionable agenda.

The air rippled and one of End Game
’s arms elevated as Ben, having turned invisible again, picked it up. John helped Ben drag End Game deeper into the house where they restrained him before he came to and could fight again.

“
Let me blow the house,” Ben said, almost pleading. “I can do it so he won’t die.”

“
You drugged him and this place is a tinderbox. It would burn down with him in it.”

“
Is that a go-ahead?”

“
No,” John said. “We just wanted to give Sandman a head start.”

“
Right. Then that’s mission accomplished.”

“
Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

When they were outside, jogging toward Amelia
’s hiding place, John encouraged Ben to keep his guard up.

“
Always, man,” Ben replied in his typically careless tone.

“
I’m serious,” John said. “If Messenger suspects you’re leaking intel…”

“
I die.”

Ben sounded almost eager and John understood the sentiment all too well.
“You’ve been helpful to me. To us,” he added as they neared the car hidden under a hunter’s camouflage netting.

“
Always will be.”

The unconditional loyal
ty was an unfamiliar sensation. A sensation he wasn’t sure he wanted to get used to. Clearing his throat, John changed the subject. “What do you know about Sandman’s history?”

“
Less than his present,” Ben said. “He was on the trigger when Messenger ordered your take down.”

How did Ben know these things?
A normal man might be pissed off and look for revenge against the man behind that bullet, but John wasn’t anywhere close to normal anymore. He owed Sandman a debt, even if the agent had only been following orders. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“
It messed him up bad,” Ben said. “Taking out the legend.”

“
Legend?”

“
Dude, you were
first
. They called you Bulletproof and told us we could be like you.”

John scowled.
“No way. There were at least twenty of us in my training class.”

“
Yeah.” Ben sighed. “That was training. You were the first to survive what came after. When they succeeded with you it spurred them on with the rest of us.”

Dear God, the implications…
“
You
were in training. You drove the instructors crazy.”

“
It’s a gift,” Ben said with pride, “and I only get better with time and the enhancement.”

John studied Amelia as she joined them, pulling her close to his side, so grateful they
’d cleared this hurdle.

“
Everything went well?” she asked.

“
We bought him some time,” Ben answered. “I’ve gotta hit my next assignment or Messenger will bench me, but I’ll be around.”

John and Amelia waited in silence until Ben
’s soft footfalls faded. “You have something.”

“
I do,” she said, her sly, reporter’s smile curving her lovely lips. “And there’s every reason to think positively. Come on.”

He let her lead him to the car, listening to her rattle on about Vaccaro family connections and old flames that didn
’t make sense to him. His mind was on what Ben had said. “We owe Sandman more than a head start,” he blurted, interrupting her with the news Ben had shared.

“
Even better.” She kissed his cheek. “I think if we give her the opportunity, Renata can find the way out of this for herself and, unless I miss my guess, for Sandman too.”