Page 46 of Hurt

WISHING ON DANDELIONS, ALL OF THE TIME

The office was a single-story brick building in the middle of town. Bland shrubbery lined the building—trimmed to perfection. Not a blade of grass was out of place. The empty parking lot was situated in front with a concrete walkway leading up to a clean white veranda. Political signs were stuck into the grass. Fake smiles plastered onto the front grinned up at them as they walked past.

Dressed all in black and following the shadows, the Weaver assassins seemed to be another figure of the night. Streetlamps cast light in large circles on the ground, but their light didn’t travel far enough. It was a huge security threat, one the Weavers intended to take advantage of. The front door was largely in darkness.

Elijah knelt down and produced a lock picking kit. Without making a noise, he set to work unlocking the door.

He was sweating, despite the coolness of the evening. He had made too many mistakes lately. It was a miracle Roland and Grant were trusting him with this at all. This assignment had to go perfectly. Despite his nerves and the pressure he was feeling, his hands were steady.

The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open. It swung on oiled hinges—another security threat. All the doors at the Weaver’s screamed like banshees when you opened them.

Jamie slipped into the dark while Elijah glanced over his shoulder. The lot was still empty, and everything was quiet. When he followed Jamie into the gloom, he was standing at a security panel. Two wires were plugged into it, and he was holding some sort of device.

“You’re on, O-Face,” he spoke quietly.

Elijah could almost hear the squawking on the other end of the comms.

Owen was safely ensconced in his apartment. A hundred miles away, no one would be able to trace him to this break-in. That was his deal. The IT tech was brilliant—more than a hacker and more than a simple computer guy. Jamie had discovered him working at a local computer store deleting porn and viruses off people’s computers for minimum wage. They offered to pay for his college if he lent him his particular skills. The kid with a bad dye job and hoodies three times too large proved to be invaluable.

That was what separated the Weavers from the Vegas. They were still breaking the law, but they never forced anyone to do things for them. Reciprocity. Wallace always said, “Train a dog through fear, and one day it’ll find something it’s more frightened of than you. Give it a reason to be loyal, and it will stay by your side through hellfire.”

Elijah scanned the reception area while Jamie and Owen worked on dismantling the security system. The receptionist’s desk was a tall semicircular thing with mini-American flags set in potted plants.

He reached forward and stroked the leaf of the orchid plant on her desk. “Too much water,” he mumbled to no one in particular.

On the back wall was a large picture of Congressman Thomas smiling down on them like some sort of demented dictator. The photo was entirely too large, and Elijah felt like his eyes were following him around the room.

“Done,” Jamie said, disconnecting the device and stuffing it in his back pocket.

The hideous blue carpet extended down the hallway, and they ended up in front of a door with a brass plaque that read ‘Congressman Thomas.’ Jamie tried the knob and found the door to be open.

“Wow,” he said as they stepped in. Hands on his hips, he looked around the room. “This is not what I expected a congressman’s office to look like.”

Elijah looked around the room. It was pretty standard. The focal point was a heavy-looking L-shaped wooden desk. A sitting area was off to the left—two small couches sitting right beneath a large window. Pictures of Congressman Thomas shaking hands with various important people covered the walls. A few looked to be ‘candids’ of his family. Elijah could tell they were posed by the way his children were grinning too big like someone pinched their backside and told them to smile or else.

“I mean, where’s the giant shark tank? Or the death ray?”

“You’re thinking Bond villain, Jamie,” Elijah admonished.

“Politician. Bond villain. Not hearing the difference, Swizzle Stick.”

Elijah ignored him and pointed at the computer. Jamie snapped off a salute and went around the desk, tapping the mouse to wake up the monitor.

“How much you want to bet me his password is his birthday?” Jamie asked as he bent over the keyboard. He typed in a few keys and then made a face.

“Bummer. Any other ideas?” He tapped the comm in his ear. “O-Face. Help me out.”

They chatted for a few minutes while Elijah looked around the room. The hair on the back of his neck bristled, and he felt uneasy. So uneasy that he rested his hand on the handle of one of his knives, feeling the cool stainless steel through the thin gloves he was wearing.

Sans their usual suits, they opted for something more tactical today. Black cargo pants and shirts. Jamie was wearing a shoulder holster. His other guns were tucked out of sight, but the size of the hand cannon tucked into the holster was enough to make most people’s mouths go dry. In contrast, none of Elijah’s knives could be seen. The varying-sized blades were tucked in pockets and sleeves around his body—everything from throwing blades with perfect balance to stiletto blades only good for stabbing.

Jamie bet him bathroom chores for a month that he couldn’t master throwing stars. Elijah was still working on it. He only had a 45% accuracy now, but he brought a couple with him anyway.

His hair was slicked back away from his face, and he ran his fingers through it while he considered the situation.

The envelope they had stolen from the Vega Cabal was cryptic. Only a series of names and numbers and several email addresses. It was impossible to tell what they were, even with the best code breakers the Weavers had employed working on it. Grant had his suspicions as to what they were, but they needed more information.

Congressman Thomas’ email was in the envelope, too, along with several not-so-flattering pictures of him with sex workers. No doubt, it was to prove to Thomas that the Vega Cabal had something on him.