“Should we evacuate the town?” The officer didn’t sound as if he was joking, only that he was double-checking. “Or will staying inside and locking our doors be sufficient preparation for your upcoming showdown with Cicero?”
Anthony blinked. “Uh...”
“I’m sure whatever you’re planning is of the utmost secrecy of course,” said the police officer, hurriedly. “I certainly don’t mean for you to divulge your plans—but I have to keep village safe.”
“Right,” said Anthony slowly. “I think you should be safe enough if you stay off the streets.”
The police officer looked visibly relieved. “Oh, good. We’re having a festival tomorrow. In your professional opinion, will the matter be concluded by then?”
“I expect so.”
“Very good. I won’t keep you. If you see my brother at the guard station, tell him dinner’s at 7.”
“Okay,” said Anthony, because what else was there to say?
It had easily been among the strangest conversations of his entire career. The walk to the secret base wasn’t any less strange, particularly when it was included on the signs by the side of the road: “Sofia, 63km, Cicero’s Secret Base, 2 km.”
What kind of person puts their name on their super-secret base?!?! Elliot’s voice echoed in Anthony’s head.
One who wants to ensure he’s found, thought Anthony.
Would Cicero want to be found so badly if he knew about Anthony’s orders to kill him? Their confrontations had never been fatal before. But now...
Anthony had always carried a gun; it was standard issue, even for the DVM, though the bullets had always been of the non-lethal variety. They’d been meant to disable opponents, put them to sleep, create a fog that would allow for Anthony’s escape; some were even able to blast through solid stone, which was quite handy on occasion.
The lethal bullets Anthony had been issued this time must have been far heavier than the others, because the gun was heavy against Anthony’s chest.
It’s time to end the charade, Bea had said. She’d been grim about it, that was something, at least, very much as if she regretting issuing the order. When Anthony had left her office, she’d been staring at the memorial wall.
What would you think about this order, Winston? wondered Anthony. You went to school with Cicero. You probably knew his name. Would you have pulled the trigger on him? Even if he planned to kill your partner?
Except... he already did. He killed Enrique. Shouldn’t he die for that alone?
Elliot’s voice echoed in Anthony’s head. The DVM doesn’t kill!
It’s time to end the charade, Bea had said, the ice in her glass of Scotch tinkling merrily as she took a drink.
Cicero’s base appeared as Anthony turned a corner. It was nestled in the mountains, pretty and picturesque, and clearly quite busy with activity. The parking lot was nearly full, it being rather early in the morning with everyone arriving at work.
In and out, quick, no witnesses, would surely not work now, thought Anthony. Besides, Cicero was rarely alone; he traveled with packs of security trotting after him.
Slip in, pretend to be one of them, get close, and...
A local bus pulled up close to the entrance to the parking lot, and most of the people aboard disembarked and began walking to the entrance, joining the people who walked in from their cars. Anthony joined them, still thinking.
I could let him capture me. It’s almost a guarantee, I’m sure every employee here will know me on sight and will be trained to capture me. And then when he comes to gloat and monologue, I could take him out then.
He’s so used to giving me chances, he’s surely do it again. I’ve never taken advantage of him before.
But it’s time to end the charade...
There was a back-up at the security entrance as people began pulling out security badges for scanning. Anthony slowed down; there was no reason to hurry, after all – if there was going to be a fuss, it’d be better for more people to have moved through security and inside than be outside and in danger of being hurt.
“Excuse me,” said the woman behind Anthony, clearly impatient for Anthony to move a little faster.
“Please go ahead,” said Anthony politely, allowing the woman to move forward.
The woman gave him a curious glance – and then gave him a second, much more befuddled look, before dropping her purse on the pavement. Several items spilled out—including her badge.
“Oh, dear, look at me. So clumsy,” said the woman brightly, kneeling to pick it all up. “Moira, can you lend a hand?”
“Sure,” said her friend, turning to help. She also glanced at Anthony and blinked, before kneeling down. “Oh dear, you forgot an umbrella. Do you want to go back for one? I think it might rain later today.”
“You’re probably right,” agreed Moira. “I left one in my car, let’s just go fetch it, shall we?”
“Right now, in fact.”
They both bustled off toward the parking lot together.
The badge, however, remained on the ground at Anthony’s feet.
Anthony didn’t hesitate; he grabbed the badge just as the line moved forward.
Within minutes, Anthony was close enough to see the guards manning the security check-point. None of them looked interested in their job, only surreptitiously glancing at badges. Which was just as well, since Moira’s friend had short red hair and was also female, unlike Anthony.
“Badge,” said the security guards, as each employee stepped up to the scanner and tapped their badges against it. “Badge. Badge.”
They barely paid attention to the badges, let alone the people carrying them.
Worst-case scenario, I blaze my way through, thought Anthony as he stepped up to the security counter.
“Ba—,” said the guard, right before he cut his word short.
And stared at Anthony, exactly as if he was staring at a ghost. Or maybe his worst nightmare. Something about the guard was familiar...
Oh shit, thought Anthony.
“—dge?” finished the guard weakly, still staring at Anthony.
Ah, thought Anthony.
“Your brother says dinner’s at seven,” he said.
The guard blinked—and the words finally clicked in his brain. “Oh, thanks,” he said, turning to the next employee. “Badge! Oh dear, you forgot it? Terrible luck, back to your car with you. Maybe you left it at home, eh? You should check. Tell your wife to serve dinner at seven.”
Anthony kept walking. No one stopped him—as if they hadn’t even realized that he’d used someone else’s badge.
The courtyard was busy with people, most of which flowed toward the main entrance. They paid no heed to Anthony – until he passed them, at which point many of them picked up their pace, though in the opposite direction. One even held the door open for him when he reached the building, right before scurrying outside again.
Funny. I thought he’d been going in, too.
Anthony glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the man disappear around the building. There’d been something about him, the nerves clear in his face...
Or the glasses he wore.
Wire-rims, thought Anthony, with a pang in his chest. But Elliot was safely back at O’Leary’s house, far from Cicero, who wanted him dead. He’d be angry about being left behind, of course. He would shout, mostly likely, claim that he was more than capable of taking care of himself.