Already Gone

– 33 –



By the time Hull pulls me back, there is blood on my knuckles and my throat is raw from shouting.

“Who are you people?” My voice cracks. “She’s dead. I saw her.”

Briggs is down on one knee. He touches the corner of his mouth with one finger, then rubs the blood away with his thumb. He looks up at me, then pushes himself to his feet.

Hull has both my arms pinned behind me.

I keep struggling, shouting.

Briggs straightens his jacket and brushes his hand over his pants, wiping away any dirt. When he looks at me again, I open my mouth to yell at him. Before I can, he punches me in the center of the chest.

It’s like being struck with a metal bat.

The pain splits me in two, and all the strength runs out of my legs. Hull lets go of my arms, and I drop to the ground. I roll onto my side and pull my legs up into my chest and try to breathe.

The pain doesn’t fade.

Briggs takes a blue handkerchief from his pocket and touches it to his lip, then he bends down next to me and says, “It hurts?”

I want to scream, but I can’t.

“Yes.” Briggs nods. “All the nerves in the abdomen meet in this one location.” He reaches down and touches a spot in the center of my chest. “Right here.”

He presses, hard.

The pain is blinding.

I try to jerk away, but Briggs stays with it.

“These nerves can be quite painful when irritated.” He lets go and pats my shoulder. “But don’t worry, it’ll wear off soon.”

I’m finally able to pull some air into my lungs, but it feels like I’m breathing in shards of glass. I can’t talk, and all that comes out is a weak moan.

“I understand your emotion, Mr. Reese, I do.” Briggs stands and walks back to the table. “Maybe this is my fault for not making the situation entirely clear.”

He picks up his overturned chair and sits down.

“Your wife’s disappearance and the deception regarding her death was her doing, not ours. She lied to you just as she lied to us, and while I understand your embarrassment and your anger—” Briggs pauses. “I’m not the person you want to take it out on.”

I get a hand under me and push myself up.

“I saw her body.”

Briggs sighs and shakes his head. “Mr. Reese, I can assure you that your wife is alive. What I can’t do is convince you, so I’m not going to try. Besides, we have more pressing issues to deal with at the moment.”

“What issues?”

Briggs sits forward and says, “Two of our employees, the men who cut off your finger, actually, are missing. We lost contact with them, and we have reason to believe they’ve gone rogue.”

“What?”

Briggs puts his hand on the table and starts tapping his knuckles on the surface. “They never should have been brought in on this. It was irresponsible.”

I wait for him to go on. When he doesn’t, I say, “What do they want?”

“The man we’re looking for hired them to cut off your finger,” Briggs says. “A foolish choice. A bit like using a shotgun to swat a fly in a crowded room.”

“Where are they now?”

“No idea.”

“Then how do you know they’ve gone rogue?”

Briggs looks at me and says, “There have been a few deaths.”





“Their names are Mathew and Alek Pavel,” Briggs says. “They were specialists in the Soviet military and came to work for us after the collapse. We hired them to oversee security for our export operation in West Africa during the Liberian civil war. They’ve been invaluable employees for years.”

“And now they’re bakers.”

Briggs looks at me. “How did you know that?”

“Don’t tell me it’s true.”

He stares at me, silent.

“I talked to them. The bigger one told me they came here to escape some mob and that they’d needed money to open a bakery.”

“Escape from where?”

“Somewhere in Russia.”

Briggs frowns. “What else did they tell you?”

“Lies,” I say. “They told us what we wanted to hear.”

“We?” Briggs leans forward. “I think you should start at the beginning. Who is ‘we’?”

At first I don’t say anything, but then the look in Briggs’ eyes changes, and I realize keeping quiet isn’t the best option.

I tell him about Gabby.

When I finish, Briggs doesn’t look away.

“You’re lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

“You expect me to believe this friend of yours was able to kidnap these men without incident?”

“Gabby has his methods,” I say. “And it wasn’t without incident. Before I left, one of the men who drove them to the hospital was missing.”

“Dead.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I’m absolutely sure. If what you told me is true, everyone involved is at risk. Including you and your friend, I’m afraid.”

“Gabby can take care of himself.”

Briggs stays focused on me, and I can see the smile in his eyes. “Did Alek tell you how his brother got those scars?”

I shake my head.

“I suppose how he got them isn’t as important as what he did later,” Briggs says. “Mathew was kidnapped by a militia who didn’t approve of our company and what we were doing. They took him and tortured him. They cut out his tongue, then hung him outside for three days, letting the sun burn his skin black.”

“Why didn’t they just kill him?”

“They wanted to make a statement. I don’t know why, perhaps because they’re animals. Either way, they sent him home as a warning of our fate if we didn’t agree to their rules.” Briggs looks down and smiles. “It turned out to be a rather serious mistake on their part.”

“What happened?”

“Once Mathew recovered, he and Alek and a few others tracked down every member of the militia, along with their families, and they destroyed them, one at a time.”

“Destroyed them?”

“It’s the only way to describe what they did,” Briggs says. “There was no stopping them, even after the war ended and legal trade began. By that point they’d become a liability to the company, and we had no choice but to relocate them.”

“So you brought them here?”

Briggs nods. “We set them up in the city, gave them a salary, and even helped them open a bakery. They’re both very smart and actually quite civilized under normal circumstances.”

I lean forward and push myself up off the floor. The center of my chest is throbbing and I still can’t take a full breath, but at least I’m standing.

Briggs looks at his watch, then reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a gold pen. He picks up one of the photos of Diane, flips it over, and starts writing on the back. “Once you get the information we need, call this number.” He slides the photo off the table and holds it out to me. “I expect to hear from you tonight.”

I look at the number then turn the photo over and stare at the picture of Diane. For a moment, I even let myself believe she’s still alive.

Then I stop.

“Is something wrong?”

“I still think you’re full of shit.”

Briggs nods, doesn’t speak.

“So that’s it? I give you his location and all this is over?”

“We’ll want to verify it, of course, but yes, tell us where we can find him and your wife’s debt to us is paid. You’ll both be free to go.”

The anger is still twisting inside me, but I push it back and bury it deep.

“But keep in mind that we’re not the ones you have to worry about.” Briggs points at my hand. “They will be coming for you, so wherever you two decide to go after tonight, I suggest you find a place far away.”