Amber Storm (Assassin In Paradise Book 1) Read online

  A quick glance around told her there was no one else about. There would be, though. Someone would have heard the crash.

  Steadying her hand, she took aim at the man’s leg. The muzzle flashed brightly as the single round exploded out of her gun and into the back of the man’s knee. He fell to the ground screaming.

  Amber approached, unhurried yet moving swiftly. Whimpering, the man attempted to push himself away with his arms while at the same time shielding his face.

  “No, please… Plea —”

  Amber silenced him with two swift shots to his head, turning the road beneath him red.

  Without pausing, she withdrew into the shadows and disappeared into the night.

  7

  Mother’s Rules

  Overarching operation requirements for agents in the field. To be followed by all agents at all times:

  Rule 1 - Do as you are told.

  Rule 2 - Don’t think.

  Rule 3 - Get the job done.

  Mother’s rules had been drilled into Amber both in training and in the subsequent years on the job. As such, she knew she was in serious trouble. Sure, she had managed to satisfy the third stipulation eventually. Was that enough to nullify failing the first two?

  An hour after the hit, Amber let herself into her accommodation for the night, a nondescript serviced apartment in an anonymous corner of the city. The space was hardly luxurious but it had a bed and privacy, and that is all she really needed.

  She glided in silently with her weapon cocked and ready. The lounge kitchen was empty. She moved to the bedroom. Earlier in the day she had mapped out her route through the room, avoiding any squeaky floorboards. The bedroom remained empty too, everything as she left it.

  Having booked the accommodation herself, it should’ve been fine. In theory, Mother had no idea where she was right now. In theory.

  The shower curtain screeched as Amber shoved it one side, the last place a person could be hiding.

  There was no one else in the apartment.

  Her nose was beginning to sting. It had bled a little on the way here. Not too badly. She examined herself in the cracked bathroom mirror. It didn’t look broken. Relatively minor. She had been fortunate. Four years of training and ten years as an operative and few visible scars to show for it. The scar that ran from her ear down to her jaw to the middle of her chin was the worst of it, courtesy of Amber hesitating at the wrong moment. That day the target became aware and glassed her. Even that though… was it a real job or one of Mother’s tests? Teaching Amber a lesson? A constant reminder not to let herself get too involved? The scar had faded considerably, to the point it just looked like a long, white line now. Her nose should heal pretty quickly too and wouldn’t even leave a mark.

  She swallowed two Panadol with a swig of water. The sounds of sport drifted in from a neighbours’ television, the overexcited commentary leaking through the walls to the left. It wasn’t clear if there was anyone in the apartment to the right.

  Unwrapping a brand new phone from its box, Amber inserted a sim and sent a simple message to Mother. The Thumbs Up emoji. Messaging was always the preferred method of contact. No point saying more or going into detail at this stage. She could deal with the inevitable repercussions later.

  The final step in the puzzle done for the evening, a wave of tiredness assaulted Amber. The job complete. She had intended to go for a run tonight, although that was a somewhat ambitious plan even before the broken nose.

  Instead, she attempted to settle down to the salad she had purchased from the supermarket earlier that day. It was chalky and unpleasant and still a better choice than most of the options that had been available to her. Every mouthful was a chore, a battle to make herself eat.

  When finished, she assessed whether she was ready for sleep or not. She certainly felt tired enough, and yet with the adrenaline coursing through her, it wouldn’t matter how tired she felt, if her body wasn’t ready to sleep, there was no chance she would. And she had expended more energy and adrenaline this evening than anticipated.

  A short time later she found herself pacing, unable to sit still, consumed by the photo of the two girls once more. The two girls standing on a beach. Their smiles were bright enough to light the entire room. Amber had difficulty looking away even though the photo felt like a knife pressing into her soul. Her breath shortened and sweat peppered her brow. She forced herself to put the photo down. It wasn’t helping matters.

  Removing some wire and a couple of personal alarms from her bag, Amber set up her usual tripwires. One near the front door and the other just inside the window, the apartment’s only entry points. Force of habit. She doubted anyone would try and break in tonight. It never hurt to be cautious though. She went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, spending twenty seconds on each tooth with obsessive dedication.

  Teeth clean, she took herself off to bed, watching the shadows flickering across the stains on the ceiling.

  At some point, Amber must have drifted off to an uneasy sleep because before she knew she was asleep, she was awake again, eyes wide.

  Footsteps.

  There was someone in the serviced apartment.

  8

  Grabbing her Sig from under her pillow, Amber lay perfectly still, listening intently. She was in close proximity to the other apartments. The walls were thin. Could the footsteps be coming from one of them? No. They were all quiet.

  Could Mother had sent someone this quickly? Except Mother didn’t know she was here, did she? Of course she did. Mother knew everything.

  Amber aimed the gun at the door and waited. No one appeared. She could hear the person moving about. How did they get in without triggering the alarms? The tripwires were avoidable if you anticipated them. No security is foolproof if you anticipate it. And know how to bypass it.

  This merely convinced Amber that her guest was most likely an assassin.

  Easing out of bed, Amber’s feet slid onto the cold floor. She shimmied over to the doorway, holding her Sig closely by her cheek. Peering through the gap in the door, she spied a figure lurking in the space near the television. He didn’t appear to have a weapon. She trained her gun on him, lightly fingering the trigger.

  “Hey…”

  The figure lurched around slowly to face her. Or perhaps face was the wrong terminology given his bald head had a massive hole where half his face should have been. One eye was missing altogether and the one that remained stared at her with its piercing green intensity.

  It was the man. The man who she had shot in the head and left on the side of the road only a couple of hours earlier. The man with two bullets in his head and one in the back of his knee. The man who couldn’t really be there. Not physically, at least.

  That explained why he hadn’t set off the tripwires. The man watched as Amber let the gun fall to her side and stroll back to bed. It was almost a certainty she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now. She would have to give it a go though.

  9

  Amber sat in the waiting room outside Mother’s office, unable to stay still. Her leg longed to jitter up and down. Keeping it still meant the rest of her body spasmed sporadically.

  The gloom of the cloudy day forced its way through the bank of windows. The office was decidedly unassuming, which was probably the point. It could have been any business anywhere that hadn’t updated its decor in decades. No one happening upon it accidentally would ever guess its purpose.

  Amber’s Sig dug into her back, not helping with her comfort levels in the slightest. Tony wouldn’t frisk her, would he? He never had before, why would he start now? Except this was different. Mother would know this was different.

  Light piano music played softly from somewhere. Amber couldn’t see any speakers. She dug a fingernail into the soft fabric of her chair’s armrest. She had been like this ever since she shot the man. On edge. Unable to shake her anxiety. She did her best not to let it show.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Tony asked from behi
nd his desk.

  “No, thank you…”

  “Tea? Coffee? Water?”

  She had said no. What, did he expect her to change her mind once she was provided with the options? ‘Oh, you have water? In that case.’

  Tony was a strange fellow. He didn’t appear to have aged at all in the entire time Amber had known him. Always neat and orderly, he was oddly angular with sharp, precise movements, not that she saw him beyond his desk terribly often.

  He was Mother’s assistant and yet how much did he actually know? Amber always got the impression he was staring at her, assessing her, all ready to report back to Mother. Like everything else, some sort of test. The perfect foil for Mother.

  Tony was finicky, always insistent on the rules. Meetings were to be face-to-face or messages. Minimal phone contact. Were they his rules? Or Mother’s? Or the organisations? It wasn’t clear.

  Behind his head hung the Diamond Logistics sign which looked about as professional as if it had been designed by a kid with Microsoft Paint. Like the decor, it wouldn’t inspire confidence in any accidental visitors.

  Tony hummed lightly, attending to his duties. Amber felt compelled to say something. She generally chatted with Tony and so to remain silent may well appear out of character.

  “How are you guys going? You been busy?”

  “Oh, you know what it’s like around here,” Tony said. “Never a dull moment.”

  Actually, Amber had little idea what it was like around here, only ever coming into the office on the odd occasion. Although whenever she did come in, it was generally like this, making her think there was plenty of dull moments for Tony. Maybe he was being sarcastic. She settled for a noncommittal nod in response.

  Searching, Amber couldn’t think of anything else to say so she left it. The lack of conversation was a pity. It would have been good to take her mind away from her poisonous thoughts.

  Thoughts like - was she going to make it out of Mother’s office alive?

  10

  After another twenty minutes or so, Tony told Amber: “Mother will see you now.”

  The door to the main office creaked as it sprung open.

  “Amber,” Mother said warmly, not bothering to get up.

  Mother was a tall woman who favoured sunglasses, even inside. Sensibly dressed and in her sixties, she had brown mouse hair and a fierce determination etched into her features. Everything sounded dry coming out of her mouth. To meet her on the street one might imagine her a bitter school vice-principal or something similar, with little to indicate the depths of her cold, ruthless persona.

  Amber took a seat opposite.

  “Did Tony offer you a drink?”

  “He did, but I don’t want anything. Thank you.”

  “Tea? Orange juice?”

  Amber shook her head, confident she was failing whatever test this was. Mother studied her intently, attempting to get a read on her.

  “Well,” Mother said eventually. “Where would you like to begin?”

  Amber shrugged.

  “Very well,” Mother said. “How about you explain what happened.”

  “What happened with what?”

  Mother’s expression suggested she wasn’t in the mood. “With the job.”

  Amber played it straight. “Nothing. The target was neutralised, as instructed.”

  “Incorrect. The target may have been neutralised eventually, but not as instructed at all.”

  The gun pressed into Amber’s back, reminding her it was there if she needed it.She waited for Mother to go on, hesitant to see just how much trouble she was in. Mother never one to tolerate mistakes.

  “The parameters were perfectly clear. The target was to be neutralised in his home, not driven around and shot out in the open, on the street.”

  “Okay…”

  Mother smiled, giving a good impression of a kind and compassionate person. “Come on, Amber. We’re not interested in games. Just tell us what happened.”

  Mother always referred to herself as ‘we’ or possibly she was referring to them collectively, not that Amber ever met anyone in the organisation other than Mother and Tony. Diamond Logistics was shrouded in mystery, even to its employees.

  Amber chose her words carefully. “There was an… operational anomaly, and as such I chose to take a different approach than the one specified.”

  Mother raised her eyebrows expectantly.

  “The target wasn’t alone.”

  “So?”

  “The intel provided suggested the target would be alone. He wasn’t. He had what I assessed to be members of his family with him.”

  Mother nodded, waiting for more. This was the part where it got tricky, not least of all because Amber didn’t exactly know why she had done what she had done. She certainly couldn’t explain about happening upon the photo of the two girls on the beach or its unexpected effect on her.

  The sound of the outside world encroached slightly on the space. Traffic from the street below. Mother continued to wait, content to let Amber dig her own grave. Eventually she said: “It sounds as though you were thinking…”

  “It seemed unwise to shoot him in the house and have his daughters find the body.”

  “Seemed unwise or you didn’t want to?”

  Amber didn’t respond.

  Mother nodded again, taking her time. “The issue is, in essence, you took a confined, controlled situation and purposefully allowed yourself to lose control of it.”

  “The car was still a confined space and a controlled situation.”

  “Was the target neutralised in the car? Or was he allowed to run screaming through a quiet suburban street?”

  How did Mother know this? She was always across the details. Had this been a mission or a test? Amber decided it was her turn to be silent.

  “Given you are an intelligent person, you are aware there is a significant difference between a person being shot in the privacy of his home and gunned down on the street. They create different narratives and different responses from the police. Yes? Your concern for these two young girls is quite… noble perhaps, if somewhat misplaced.”

  Amber did her best to maintain eye contact.

  “Take me through it. How did you arrive at that point?”

  “My intention was to eliminate him in the car.”

  “Yes, but you didn’t.”

  Amber sighed. “No, he managed to escape after deliberately crashing his car into a tree.”

  “Hmmm.” Mother drummed her fingers on her desk, the only sound in the otherwise silent office, her gaze not wavering. “Frankly, we find this quite concerning, Amber. Should we be concerned?”

  “You’re welcome to be concerned if you would like.”

  “Yes, but should we be? This isn’t something that would have happened five years ago. Even a year ago.”

  Shifting in her chair, Amber tried unsuccessfully to get comfortable, aware she had already fidgeted too much since sitting. Mother would notice. Mother noticed all. “Is your concern that I showed compassion for those girls?”

  “Our concern is, as we believe you know already, that you had the perfect opportunity to complete your mission as instructed and yet you actively chose not to. Thinking, in such a manner, is problematic for someone with your skill set.”

  Amber squirmed even more. It was like getting in trouble at school. Mother would have made a terrifying teacher. Amber would most likely have made it out alive from a meeting with a teacher though.

  “Did you interact with the man?”

  Amber couldn’t hold Mother’s gaze anymore. There was little point trying to deceive her, the woman was a human lie detector.

  “Amber, did you interact with the man?”

  “A little.”

  The edge of Mother’s lips curled up. Not a smile exactly. “A little is no different from a lot. This was never intended to be a close contact job. No wonder you lost control of the situation.” Her eyes tore into Amber. “Maybe we should be pleased you neutral
ised the man at all.”

  Amber steeled herself. Should she pull out her Sig right now? Would it even help? They were traversing dangerous new ground here.

  11

  Amber stared into Mother’s expressionless face. One of the things Amber had always prided herself on was being an exemplary agent. Mother was correct. This situation would not have happened five years ago. What did that say for Amber’s long term viability as an operative?

  “I can’t do this anymore…” Amber blurted out, surprising herself.

  Mother glared down her nose at her. “What do you mean, exactly?”

  “This. Any of it. What we do. No, what I do. As far as I can tell, you just sit behind a desk.”

  She ran out of words, none of this planned. So in place of talking, she stood.

  “Sit, please.”

  Amber shook her head, unable to bend her legs. She reached back and pulled out her Sig. Not pointing it at Mother exactly, and yet making her aware she had it.

  “Oh Amber. Stop being silly.”

  Amber didn’t move.

  “You do appear a bit frayed at the edges.” Mother studied her from the other side of the desk. “Perhaps a holiday —”

  “No. Not a holiday. I’m done.”

  “Done? There is no done.”

  “No, I’m done. Thank you for everything. I… yeah…”

  And with that, Amber strode out of Mother’s office. Was that the correct way to quit a job? Perhaps not with a weapon, but walking out like that? Amber had no idea, never having had a real job in her life. Well, other than stocking the shelves at a small supermarket after school when she was fifteen. And this job with Mother was by no means any sort of an ordinary job.

  “Amber, stop.”

  Determined not to contemplate her actions, Amber strode straight past Tony without any sort of acknowledgement or goodbye.