Chapter 8: Ace

It was hard to wrap my mind around the fact that the leader of the Underground was dating the mother of an EAGLE spy, and that I was present at the same time he visited. More annoying still, the thought brought the song “It’s a Small World” to mind, and it was playing on repeat inside my head.

Now more than ever, I wished I had my knife. After retrieving it from underneath the bleachers, I had kept it at my bedside, afraid that I’d lose it. Once more, choosing sentimentality over practicality proved to be a bad decision.

My boss kept his eyes on the road, but I remained on high alert. I wasn’t sure if I could win in a fight, especially if he had concealed weapons.

“Spades,” he said.

I jumped in my seat, reaching for a knife. My fingers closed on empty air.

Seth chuckled. “I thought one of the best assassins in the Underground would be less twitchy.”

“You tried to kill me,” I snapped. “Though maybe you aren’t as tough without your thugs to protect you.”

Was it a bad idea to taunt a man who had my life in his hands? Probably. Did I care? A lot less than I should have, considering the circumstances.

“I’ve made it where I am without their help.” There was a threat in his tone. “By the way, I just figured out the meaning behind your code name. Ace of Spades. I always thought you meant spades as in the shovel people use to dig graves.”

We drove past the Denny’s that Genevieve worked at.

“Let me off here,” I said. “It’s close to Angel’s house.”

Seth didn’t slow down. “If you give me your address, I can take you straight home.”

“And show a potential killer where I live? No thanks.”

“If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

“What about that night on the rooftop?”

“In all fairness, you killed several of my men.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the saying an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind?”

“That’s hypocritical coming from you.” Seth made a turn at the intersection. “Now, tell me where you live or we can continue driving in circles all night.”

The light from the Denny’s sign faded into the night. We passed a familiar corner store on the side of the street. When Seth slowed to avoid hitting a pedestrian, I saw my chance.

It had been awhile since I had to jump from a moving vehicle, but the car wasn’t going too fast and, if I remembered right, the sidewalk had been newly paved.

I tried to unbuckle my seatbelt. Yet no matter how many times I clicked the red button, it remained fastened. The door also refused to budge.

“What’s wrong with this car?” I muttered.

Seth glanced at me. “I see you’ve discovered the child safety locks. You won’t be able to unbuckle your seatbelt or open the door unless the car is parked.”

“What idiot puts safety locks in the passenger seat? No child ever sits in the front.”

The seatbelt tightened when I reached for the shift stick.

“You look like a fish caught in a net.” Seth sounded amused.

I glared at him but sat still. My phone started to ring, and I pulled it out to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Ace!” my mother hissed. “Where in the world have you been? It’s almost ten and Genevieve says she hasn’t seen you since David took you to your friend’s house!”

“You always jump to the worst conclusions. I stayed over for dinner and it ran late. That’s all.”

The phone slipped, and I made an awkward grab to keep it from falling.

“Is that your mother?” Seth asked. “Tell her you’ll be home once you stop being stubborn and give me your address.”

“It’s 817 Cropper Road.” Mother’s voice filled the car. “By the way, you put the phone on speaker, Ace. I thought you teenagers were supposed to be good with technology.”

I cursed and hung up.

Seth kept one hand on the wheel as he pulled up his GPS. “Now was that so hard, Spades?”

“If I catch you sending anyone after me or my mother, I swear I will cut your limbs off and shove them down your throat,” I snarled. “Then I’ll leave your body for Mrs. Pierce to find with a message saying exactly who you are. I’m guessing you haven’t told her what you do for a living.”

“Say a word of this to Diana, and it’s no holds barred,” he said. “No matter how good you are, that’s a fight you won’t win.”

Mother was waiting outside on the front porch when the car pulled up in the driveway. She had her lips pressed together in a way that I knew meant trouble. I unbuckled my seatbelt and jumped out.

Mother smiled. “Thanks for bringing my son home. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Seth shook his head. “No trouble, but I have somewhere I need to be. If you’ll excuse me.”

The whole exchange was sickeningly polite. At least my mother seemed to forget her anger at me by the time he left.

I darted to my room and pulled out my pocket knife, running my thumb over the grooves on the handle. The weight was more comforting than a nightlight.

I slipped it under my pillow. Forget sentimental value. The leader of the Underground had never liked me in the first place, and now that I knew his identity, as well as a person he cared for, I was a liability to him.

Despite Seth’s assurances that he had no plans to kill me, I had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before I woke up with a knife at my throat.

Paranoia put me in a bad mood. I had no desire to go to school and deal with the condescending teachers or the simpering students.

So I skipped.

It was surprisingly easy. I headed for the bus stop in the morning but took a detour in an alleyway. Instead of going back home, I went to a convenience store and pretended to browse through the comic books. The cashier didn’t say a word.

Something flashed at the edge of my vision. I whirled around, whipping out my knife.

“Whoa there.” The man held out his hands like he was trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy, boy.”

He had wavy red hair tied back in a ponytail, with hints of a beard on his jaw. His eyes glinted with amusement.

I scowled. “What are you doing here, Firebrand?”

“I saw you by the coffee shop and followed you into the store,” he said. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

I did not appreciate a reminder that my skills were getting dull. “What do you want?”

Firebrand scratched his chin. “I need a favor, Spades. I took on a job that paid handsomely, but the mark has proved more resilient than expected. I was hoping you can help me out.”

“You want me to do the dirty work and let you get the credit? No thanks.”

He irritated me to no end.

“I’ll give you a cut of the paycheck. Let’s say twenty-five percent. That’s about a thousand bucks after the portion that goes to the higher ups.”

My eyes widened. “Four thousand dollars for one person?”

Most jobs came in at nine hundred dollars. I couldn’t believe the Underground had entrusted a job worth four thousand to Firebrand.

Going after a target like that could be dangerous, and Mother would be suspicious if a thousand dollars appeared in our bank account.

Firebrand smirked. “I’ll also keep quiet about why one of the Underground’s top assassins has been missing in action recently. How has school been treating you, Spades? Teachers and textbooks must bore you to tears after the thrill of putting bullets through a man’s skull.”

That was the other reason I found Firebrand annoying. He was the equivalent of the popular girls who sat around in circles, flicking their perfectly styled hair. In other words, a total gossip.

“If you can get the money to me in cash, it’s a deal,” I said.

“Not a problem.” Firebrand pulled out a paper folder. “This is the information on the mark. Give it back to me when the job is done.”

I flipped to the first page and skimmed past most of the basic profile, only making note of the name. Jeremiah Khalid sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember why.

There was also a picture on the back. The target had black hair and doe-like eyes, with skin the color of teakwood. He couldn’t be over eight years old.

I gave Firebrand a skeptical look. “You had trouble taking out a child?”

“He’s the only son of Mohammad Khalid,” Firebrand said. “The kid’s got his own team of bodyguards.”

“Who ordered the hit on him?”

“It’s not my place to know.”

“That’s never stopped you before.”

Firebrand huffed. “The job came straight from the leader of the Underground. He’s not someone I want to cross.”

I closed the file and returned my comic book to the shelf.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“It’s ten fifteen. If I hurry, I can catch the end of Jeremiah’s karate class.”

I spent the day trailing my target. Firebrand hadn’t been kidding about the bodyguards. There were at least thirty of them surrounding Jeremiah, dressed in black suits with identical earpieces. They could have been mistaken for the Secret Service.

I also began to see why Firebrand had such a hard time with the job. Jeremiah’s bodyguards never left his side. Five of them even accompanied him into the restroom while the others stood guard at the door. I bought a hot dog from a vendor as I waited for him to come out.

According to the schedule, Jeremiah had an hour of outdoor time at Lincoln Park around the same time school let out. Sure enough, his stretch limo headed down Bunsen Avenue. No doubt it would turn onto Bramble Road after that. I broke into a light jog to keep up with the car. Afternoon traffic slowed it down considerably.

Jeremiah appeared to be arguing with his bodyguards as they crossed the field to get to the playground. Most of them broke away to secure the perimeter. Only three stayed by his side. One was a burly man with a scar that matched mine. The other two were women with their hair pulled back in low ponytails.

Jeremiah seemed happy with the arrangement as he ran off to play.

I put earbuds in and leaned against a tree trunk, pretending to listen to music. The bodyguards shooed away the children. One of them gave me a suspicious look but left me be.

Jeremiah had the entire playground to himself. He ran up and down the slides and clambered through the jungle gym. After half an hour, his energy began to flag, and he plopped down on a step. The blonde bodyguard gave Jeremiah a bag full of blue Skittles.

It gave me an idea.

The dry cleaner on Orchard Street looked the same as always, from the graffiti on the walls to the door hanging off its hinges.

It was a mystery to passersby how the place stayed in business. Cockroaches scuttled along the sides of the building, and clothes brought in often returned dirtier than before.

But the washing machines were a cover, allowing the Trivedis to make their true living supplying lethal drugs to the Underground.

The door left splinters in my hand when I pushed it open. A teenager with purple hair stood at the counter, playing with a Rubik's cube.

“The legend of the raven’s roar is not yet ready to die,” I said.

I hated the nonsensical code phrases the Trivedis used. They sounded like they were stolen from a spy movie.

The teenager frowned but gestured for me to follow him through a back door. We headed down a flight of stairs to a musty basement filled with shelves of glass vials.

Pranav Trivedi was grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle, and he barked something in Hindi at the teenager.

“But the code phrase checked out, Dad,” the teenager said.

Trivedi’s eyes narrowed. “Anirudh, I swear if this is another one of your pranks with your foolish friends—”

“This isn’t a trick,” I cut in. “Though my request may be unusual.”

Trivedi crossed his arms.

“I need you to poison every single blue candy in a bag of Skittles,” I said. “It has to be scentless, tasteless, and slow acting.”

I didn’t want to be next to the target when he dropped dead.

“You are, what’s the word, pooping me, are you not?”

Anirudh snorted. “Not quite right there, Dad.”

“This job pays well,” I promised Trivedi. “It’ll be worthwhile.”

He squinted at me. “I will play along, but I’m warning you, boy, I have powerful contacts in the Underground. If I find out you were lying to me, I will make you regret the day you were born.”

That Trivedi, with his potbelly and delicate hands, could make me regret anything was rather amusing, but I had the sense not to laugh.

“Put the fee on Firebrand’s tab,” I told him. “When will the poison be ready?”

“The poison must be crafted to perfection. You cannot rush art.”

“Good thing you’re not an artist then,” I said.

Trivedi’s jaw dropped, as if he wasn’t used to people speaking to him with disrespect.

“Come by at one tomorrow,” Anirudh answered for his father. “You better leave now before he blows a gasket.”

I nodded in thanks and hurried outside. After stopping for a snack, I made my way to Genevieve’s house.

There were dark circles under her eyes when she answered the door.

My concern rose. “What happened?”

“It’s David.” Her face was like glass. “You have to see for yourself.”

She led me down the back hallway to the guest bedroom. Gauze, antiseptics, and ointment sat on the dresser. David was asleep, his frame too large for the tiny bed. An ugly gash ran across his collarbone, and blood seeped through the gauze around his torso. His breathing rattled.

“Who did this to him?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Genevieve admitted. “He was half-dead when he showed up on my doorstep and he’s been flitting in and out of consciousness for days.”

I brushed my fingers across his forehead. “Gen, you need to get him to a hospital. He’s burning up!”

Deep wounds were one thing. Infected wounds were an entirely different beast and could prove far more deadly.

“We can’t afford a doctor.” Her face was ashen. “And it’s not like the Underground provides medical insurance.”

I thought for a minute. “Would four thousand dollars be enough?”

“Maybe, but you must be tight enough on money as it is.”

“It’s not my mine, it’s Firebrand’s. And it’s only fair since I’m the one doing the job.”

The next day, I sent a message to the Underground and picked up the package from the dry cleaner before heading to the park.

Jeremiah showed up at three with his usual slew of bodyguards. I sat on the swing and watched him play, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. It was ironic how killing was one of the few times I felt alive.

The brunette bodyguard came by and tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware this was private property.”

“Jeremiah Khalid has his outdoor time here, and I can’t have threats in his vicinity.”

I looked at her gun. “You think an unarmed teenage boy can take down your entire team?”

The woman flushed. “It is a matter of precaution. Nothing else.”

“You can’t kick me out of a public space. Besides, I’m sure you could stop me if I tried anything.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Fine. But one wrong move, young man, and I’ll have you in a cell with only rats for company.”

“Whatever you say.”

I opened the pack of Skittles and watched Jeremiah try to climb a fireman’s pole. The highest he got was halfway.

“It helps if you use your feet too,” I said.

Jeremiah paused in his game and looked over at. “Who are you? Rita yells at me if I talk to strangers.”

“My name’s Aaron.” I smiled at him. “And since you know my name, I’m no longer a stranger to you.”

He tilted his head then nodded, seeming to accept the logic. Across the lawn, one of the bodyguards gave me a suspicious look.

I popped an orange Skittle in my mouth. “Do you come to the park every day?”

He nodded. “It’s a lot of fun. Indoor playgrounds aren’t the same.”

“Isn’t it lonely without other kids to play with?”

“It’s alright. I have my bodyguards and I have my tutors and I have my nanny. I also get to see my parents every weekend.”

I nodded and pulled another Skittle from the bag. It was blue.

I frowned at it. “I hate this flavor.”

Jeremiah’s eyes widened. “Really? Blue is my favorite! It’s soooo good.”

“Do you want it then?” I held it out. “I’ve got several more in the bag and it’d be a shame to toss them.”

He reached for the candy but stopped with his fingers hovering above my palm. “I’m not supposed to take candy from people who don’t work for my father.”

“I promise it’s safe. I’ve been eating these Skittles for a while now and I’m still alive.” I popped a red one in my mouth to prove my point.

“Okay then.” Jeremiah glanced over his shoulder before taking it.

He left the park as happy and healthy as always. The poison wouldn’t take effect for a few hours. I didn’t know what Trivedi put in the Skittles, but I hoped it would be painless. Jeremiah wasn’t a bad kid.

The closest meeting point from the park was in the storage area of a department store. A grate in the streets hid the tunnels that led there. Rust caked under my fingernails as I pried it open.

The tunnel was pitch black, but I didn’t want to turn on my phone’s flashlight in case the beam was visible from outside. I kept my hand on the grimy wall to follow the curves of the tunnel.

After a while, the ground sloped up. Then came a faint outline of light coming from the low ceiling. A trapdoor.

I fumbled in the dark for the lock. For a scary moment, I thought the passcode had been changed. It was standard for it to switch when the Underground changed leaders. Then the trapdoor swung open.

I took a running start and pushed myself through.

The first sound I heard was the safety clicking off a gun.

“Move a muscle and I’ll put a bullet through your head.”

It was Will.

I flicked open my knife, heart pounding so loud it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. “You’ve tried before. Might I suggest adding some creativity?”

“Might I suggest holding your tongue?” Will mocked. “Unlike you, I have the power to back up my threats. Now drop the knife.”

I didn’t move.

“I said drop it!”

The blast was deafening. I flinched as a bullet whizzed past my shoulder.

“You can’t kill me,” I said.

“Last I checked, you aren’t immortal. A gun will kill you as easily as it kills everyone else.”

“But you’re not allowed to. Seth wants me alive.”

At least, I hoped he did.

Will sighed and jerked his head like he was having a muscle spasm. I didn’t realize it was a signal until someone jabbed a syringe into my neck.