Assassin (2 page)

“I thought I was getting on another plane.” Troy complains
as they slide into a taxi. The Indian cab driver smiles at them, asks how their
day is going, and where they would like to go.

“Morgantown, Pennsylvania. Just drive, and don’t ask any
more questions.” Marty hands the man a hundred dollar bill to get started and
they pull out into the sea of taxis. Nick and Maggie are left standing on the
sidewalk as they both pull out their cellphones, no doubt to call headquarters
and let them know that their mark has defected.

“You slept with her, didn’t you?” Troy leans back in the seat
that smells like Febreeze, and closes his eyes with his hands behind his head.
The radio station, WMMR, is playing quietly in the background.

“Of course I did. She practically laid herself out like a
buffet on the hotel room floor and begged me for it. Who wouldn’t take up that
opportunity?” What he wouldn’t give for his headphones right now. He doesn’t
want to get into the discussion of morals with this guy. That’s what a confession
booth is for, and he’s never been to one.

“A man with integrity who knows that the woman who is
begging for it has a long term boyfriend, that’s who wouldn’t take up that
opportunity.” Marty Summers crosses one leg over the other and puts both hands
on his knee as he looks from the front windshield to the left, and then to the
right. He repeats this process all the way through the city, which takes them
an hour and forty five minutes in the current traffic.

“I never said I am a man with integrity.” Mr. Summers
doesn’t form a rebuttal. Instead, he hands the driver’s license back and
remains silent for the remainder of their journey. Troy’s exhausted from lack
of sleep the night before, and the stress of being on the run, but he doesn’t
sleep. He doesn’t complain either because he could be spending his time in a
jail cell, waiting for one of the Boss’s cronies to shank him.

“Are you hungry?” Troy wrinkles his nose at the smell of cow
shit and decides he’d rather eat in Hell.

“No, I’m not hungry. I had a pretty decent breakfast. Let’s
just get out of here and to Ohio, shall we?” Marty looks at the cab driver, who
is dutifully staring straight ahead at the road, and then glares at his ward.
They’re not supposed to discuss the itinerary for this mission in front of the
citizens.

“Right, then please take us to the Morgantown Airport.” The cab
driver takes the exit after he plugs that information into the GPS, and Troy’s
mouth waters when he sees the Burger King straight ahead. The parking lot is
only half packed, so it would be a quick stop. Yet Marty seems determined to
get to the airport now that Troy has leaked pertinent information.

The roads are patched and bumpy, nothing like city streets.
Locals are setting up small vegetable stands with signs that instruct the purchaser
to leave their cash in the box.
How can they be so trusting?
Troy
wonders as he tries to find a woman in something other than a pair of jeans and
a t-shirt or blouse. A few of the younger ones are wearing shorts, but there is
something about them that screams country. Feeling out of his comfort zone,
Troy stares at the passenger seat in front of him. His stomach is clenching and
roiling as he wonders if his destination is like this place.

They pass by antique shops, a few local bars and then turn
down a dirt road. Troy hangs on for dear life as the cab driver tries to slow
down enough that the shocks aren’t ruined. The Morgantown Airport is a small
building with glider planes outside, and Troy quirks an eyebrow as he wonders
if they’re going to attempt a flight to Ohio in a glider plane.

“Don’t look so worried, our flight will arrive in about
fifteen minutes, we’re early.” The scent of food from the Arby’s nearby wafts
across the street in Troy’s direction and he turns as if he’s a zombie on the
hunt. Marty grabs his arm just as the cab driver starts for home. “You’re not
to mingle with the locals. We will wait here for our flight.”

He’s about to argue, when a small plane starts circling, and
gently touches down on the rough terrain. It stops just before it slams into
the building housing the glider planes, and a young man gives them a two finger
salute. Marty Summers begins walking away without a backwards glance at Troy as
if he expects the hulking man to follow without explanation. And he does.

The pilot is chatting with one of the employees of the
airport on his radio when they board the plane. Troy sits down and immediately
puts on his seatbelt. This is worse than the Boeing they were on. He leans
forward with his head almost touching his knees and his elbows resting on his
thighs as he tries to suck in air. Mr. Summers doesn’t say a word about his ward’s
inability to handle flight and tells the pilot it’s time to go.

Now that his chatting session with the airport employees is
over, he commences his takeoff routine. Their flight to the Cleveland-Hopkins
International Airport doesn’t take as long as Troy expects, and he’s barely
drifted off into sleep by the time they land. It was a rather smooth flight
with minimum turbulence, and the pilot seems satisfied with himself.

“And we’ve arrived at your destination, boys. Have a grand
evening and fine rest of your trip!” He’s all smiles with his bright red hair
and hazel eyes. Troy actually grins back before he hops off the plane and
follows Marty over the tarmac and through the airport. They make it through
security, and out into Cleveland, Ohio.

“This is where I leave you, Troy Red. I wish you good luck
in your future endeavors, and try not to sleep with anymore agents.” With those
words, Marty Summers walks away from him with one hand in his pocket and the
other hanging at his side. The back of his suit jacket flaps in the wind that
is building up from a storm outside, and then he’s disappeared into another
taxi.

“Troy Red?” This man is shorter than the last with dirty
blonde hair and baby blue eyes that would make any woman melt. Still he’s a formidable
five foot nine or ten inches with a lean frame. He’s also wearing a black suit
with a white, button up shirt, and a red power tie.

“Yeah, and you are?” He feels that lazy grin coming over his
features again and tries to stifle it.

“No names here. Let’s just get in the car and drive, shall
we?” This doesn’t feel right to Troy, so he doesn’t move. This goofball didn’t
ask for his identification, and he’s not flashing any of his own.

“Where are we going?” Those baby blues look Troy up and down
from head to toe, and the man pulls out a piece of gum from his suit jacket. He
pops the cinnamon flavored stick into his mouth and chews methodically.

“Why don’t you tell me that, Troy?” The smile he gives Troy
makes him look like a maniac, and then he pulls out his Federal Agent badge.

Taking the badge from the agent, Troy studies it for a long
time and then asks for photo identification. The agent hands it over willingly,
and Troy reads his name on the I.D. No wonder he didn’t want to say it out
loud.
Who names their kid Moonlight
? Troy wonders.

“Right, well why don’t we just head out?” Moonlight Rogers
turns on his shiny, black shoe heel and marches out of the airport with
superiority. This man must have a complex about his name, but Troy can’t blame
him. He’s glad they weren’t sadistic at the eyewitness protection program
headquarters when they picked out his new name.

“I’m not getting in that.” Troy balks at this point in his
journey. He takes a step back in disgust at the light blue Mini-Cooper and
wonders if he’ll even fit in the passenger seat.

“Why the Hell not?” Moonlight, a blue mini-cooper, this is
turning into Troy’s worst nightmare!

“It’s a girl color, and it’s a clown car. Do I need any more
reasons?” Mr. Rogers, Troy inwardly chuckles at that, crosses his arms over his
chest and tries to make himself look bigger as he rocks back and up onto his
toes.

“Do you want to die in Cleveland, Ohio?” Troy’s face twists
into anger as he stares at the blue mini-cooper. He wrenches open the door with
too much force and slams it shut. He’s probably ruined the integrity of the
door frame with that display, but he could care less about the girly clown car
he now has to ride in.

Sometime around ten that evening, Troy finally falls into a
fitful sleep as Moonlight Rogers keeps driving. When he wakes up again, the
scenery looks the same as it did a few hours ago. They’re at the top of another
mountain, and in the light from the moon and the stars shining clearly in the
sky, Troy can see nothing but trees for miles around them. He closes his eyes
and tries to picture the city.

All he can remember are the women wearing their shorts and
their sequin tops with trendy haircuts. Then he sees flashes of his family gathering
in the row home his mother lived in, and he feels his heart sinking when he
realizes that no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never see them again. Troy
didn’t believe in a place like Heaven existed until his niece died. Someone
like her, she deserves to go to someplace like Heaven.

“We’re almost to your new home!” It’s been four hours since
they left the airport. Troy sits up in his seat, pulls the lever so that the
back of the seat comes up again, and rubs his eyes to make sure he’s seeing
right.
Yep, nothing but godforsaken trees for hundreds of miles. I’ve been dumped
in the middle of hick town, great.

He knew that he wasn’t going to a city like New York or
maybe even a smaller one like Newark, Delaware. No, he knew he was going to a
small town. But did it have to be surrounded by trees like this? What’s the population
total of this tiny place, anyway? And how is he supposed to get any tale here
when all the women are probably delightful little Catholic girls that hate men
like Troy Red?

Well not men like Troy Red, but men like
him
.

“What the Hell am I supposed to do here anyway? Don’t tell
me I’m going to be shoveling up cow shit. If you say I am, I will go back to
Los Angeles and turn myself in to the mob bosses!” Moonlight Rogers just turns
a sickening smile on Troy and takes one of the dirty roads leading away from
the town. His little mini-cooper barely makes it up the hill and gets stuck a
few times. Troy feels dread building up in his lower abdomen as they finally
near a farm, and he almost screams when he sees where he’ll be living for the
rest of his life.

Not if I have any say in it.

“Take me home.” He is gripping the dashboard with both
hands.

“Oh, Troy Red, but you are home!” Mr. Rogers throws his head
back and laughs with sadistic mirth as his eyes close. He’s holding his stomach
by the time his laughing fit is over as if it hurts him, and Troy wishes he
could grabs this man’s scrawny neck and ring it like the chickens he’s going to
have to deal with. He would be shocked if this place
didn’t
have
chickens.

“Fuck you, Moonie Rogers, fuck you.” He slams open the door
to the car and kicks it shut with a boot. Troy Red loses control, even though
the man he was before never showed this much emotion.

The sound of a horse nickering in a nearby barn makes Troy’s
heart slam behind his ribcage. Will he be expected to clean up stalls? The
thought makes his skin crawl more than the thought of having to clean up a man’s
guts off the floor. He’s done that more times than he’d like to admit, but it
was just his job.

“Hurry up before the kid wakes up.” His skin seems to frost
over as Moonlight Rogers mentions the word kid. He’s expected to live with a
child? But then he hears it. It’s the sound of a goat bellowing in the night,
and he almost resorts to tears.

“Please, please don’t leave me in this craphole! Please!”
But Moonlight is ignoring his pleas as he knocks on the door to the small,
quaint farmhouse. It’s one of those houses with white siding and blue shutters.
It’s the kind that has a dark blue front door with a brass knocker on it, and a
doorbell on the doorframe. The front lawn is manicured, but beyond that it’s a
few large fields, and some trees.

The man who opens up the door reminds Troy of the classic
mountain man. His hair is silver and thick, tied back into a neat ponytail, and
he bets it goes down past his shoulder blades. That’s about all Troy can see
because the light is coming from the house behind the stranger. Swallowing the
insidious fear that he will be stuck here for an eternity, Troy stares at the man.

They’re standing about twenty-five feet apart, with Troy
still by the mini-cooper. But he can still hear the old man as clear as day.

“So that’s the asshole that’s stayin’ with me?” Mr. Rogers
turns around and motions for Troy to approach, but for a moment he thinks about
stealing the car and driving all the way home. It’s the fear of death that
makes him walk forward.

“I’m the asshole who’s
staying
with you.” Troy tries
to make a point about the English language, but the old man doesn’t seem fazed.
He looks his new house guest up and down as if he’s looking at a foal at
auction, and grunts.

“He’ll do, I guess. What’s his name?” Before Moonlight can
answer for him, Troy pipes up.

“It’s Troy Red, and I don’t know what you have planned for
me, but I’m not cleaning up horse shit.” Mr. Rogers clears his throat before
the man can respond and shakes hands with the hillbilly from Hell.

“I’ll leave you two to get to know one another. You have my
number if anything goes wrong, Mr. Grant. I genuinely appreciate your help.”
The blonde, city boy agent retreats to his car and takes off as fast as he can
down the dirt road. Troy watches his only escape option leave and wonders if
this is a good idea. The old man seems to be assessing him and thinking the
same thing when Troy turns around.

“I’ll show you to your room.” With those horrifying words,
Troy follows the old man inside and gets a better look at him when they’re
roaming through the farmhouse. He gets the quick tour of where the kitchen is,
the bathroom, and the living room. There’s a room that he is not shown, and
Troy assumes that’s the old man’s room.