Marked Man II - 02 by Jared Paul Page A

operation when he was shot in the spleen by a Russian’s stray bullet. More than anything, he would have loved a taste but the doctors had advised against it for at least another four weeks. His system had taken a powerful blow and was still recuperating. Any intoxicants could set him back a long way. Agent Clemons moved like normal, but slower, as if he was unsure that the ground beneath his feet would hold steady anymore.
     
    Jordan Ross cleared his throat and spoke in his direction.
     
    “By the way I need a new vehicle.”
     
    “What’s wrong with the CRV?” Agent Clemons asked warily like he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.
     
    “It got KIA’d.”
     
    “How?”
     
    By way of reply Jordan made a poof sound and shot his hands out. Agent Clemons sighed and promised to get another car as soon as possible, and asked if he would take better care of this one.
     
    Once that was settled Jordan nodded and then turned to Bollier.
     
    “Did you find my sister?”
     
    “They weren’t home. According to my two new genius stool pigeons Shirokov has them holed up in a warehouse somewhere on Staten Island, near the ferry.”
     
    Shades of red and purple passed over Jordan’s face as he processed it. His teeth ground so hard that Agent Clemons heard it from across the table, even with the jukebox playing. When he had calmed down enough to speak again Jordan asked Bollier if she believed them. Bollier tilted her head to the side a moment and sipped from her glass.
     
    “Facing an arrest a lot of people will say anything, but yes I did. Kyle?”
     
    Agent Clemons was about to drink from his club soda but he set it down and sneered at it instead.
     
    “I’m going to have agents checking every warehouse in the borough first thing in the morning, but it’s probably going to take a few days with nothing more to go on than that. They didn’t have an exact address?”
     
    Bollier shook her head.
     
    “I don’t think Alexei and Timur are what you’d call inner-circle material exactly. But it’s a good bet it’s the same place they brought me when… you know.”
     
    Together the three of them observed a moment of silence. Bollier’s abduction was a sore subject, the group’s greatest failure to date, up until this apocalyptic scenario with Mary’s family. Bollier had not been the same since. Jordan Ross doubted that she ever would be.
     
    The waitress finally returned with their drinks and three coasters. She slid the last one under the Manhattan and winked at Bollier. Next to the Pabst logo a phone number was scribbled down along with a smiley face. She lifted the Manhattan and took a sip then pocketed the coaster.
     
    Jordan Ross and Agent Clemons were blushing and looked like they were about to break into a grade-school ooooOOOoooh chant. The detective instructed them to shut up and they did so, sealing their lips tight before they even had a chance to be lurid.
     
    The levity was short-lived. Jordan asked the question the trio had been dreading.
     
    “So. Does anybody have any ideas how Shirokov found out I’m alive?”
     
    The FBI agent and the detective exchanged a very concerned look. They avoided looking at their vigilante partner in the eye. Part of their deal was that nobody Jordan knew would be put in harm’s way. With Jordan dead that was easy, but alive was another thing entirely. Jordan waited for them to speak for a while and then he took an exceptionally long draught from his glass of amber ale.
     
    “No theories? No clues? No suspects? No ideas whatsoever?” His voice was all acid.
     
    Detective Bollier blinked and studied the etchings and vandalism on the table carefully.
     
    “I’m sorry Jordan. We never thought that he had this kind of...”
     
    “...It would appear that Shirokov’s arm is a lot longer than we originally thought possible,” Agent Clemons finished for her.
     
    Jordan huffed bitterly.
     
    “It would appear so.”
     
    He drained the rest of