Page 3 of Whistleblower

“She won’t take it. I’ve tried but I can’t figure out—”

“You’re a kid. You were robbed of your childhood, Chandler. It’s not your job to save her.”

I press against my temples with my palms as the memories from as early back as I can remember flash through my head. How many times did I find her passed out, thinking she was dead? If I ever thought I’d see a cold body on the ground, it wasn’t Suzanne. It suddenly dawns on me that we’re conversing as if my murdered friend isn’t lying three feet away.

“Can we cover her, at least?” I ask, pulling at the hem of my thin hoodie.

She shakes her head solemnly. “I’m sorry. Don’t touch her. We don’t need to give the cops any more evidence against you.”

“Why would they blame me? This makes no sense. Tell me what’s going on. Who are you, really?”

She slams back her drink. “You want to dip a toe, or dive right into the deep end?”

“Dive.”

“I run a team of insurgents so to speak. We’re not cops, not military, not FBI, CIA, DIA. But we help them from time to time. You see, law enforcement and government agencies have some limitations, and that’s why they call upon us.”

“Limitations? Such as?” Looking closer, I see Vesper has not one gun, not two…but three. One in a holster around her hips. One strapped around her thigh. The last is Suzanne’s, still in her coat pocket. That’s a lot of bullets at her mercy.

“Civil rights. The Constitution. Sometimes, just outright stupidity.” She shuts her eyes, inhales, and then slowly exhales like she’s breathing away a bad memory. “In about twenty minutes, the police are going to dust this place top to bottom, put your friend in a body bag, and report this as a robbery gone bad, instead of what it is—a gang slaying. They know who’s behind it, but they won’t pursue Peroli or his dogs because he’s wanted for much higher crimes. Pulling mass quantities of cocaine across the border is one of his more redeeming qualities, it’s the human trafficking that the feds are most concerned about. But they don’t have enough information and pursuing his gang will only spook him. He’ll go back into hiding. The best way to get Peroli is to let him operate, unleashed, hoping he’ll get too greedy, too cocky, slip up, and make a mistake that they can use to put him away for good.”

I clench my jaw, thinking about the scared look in Suzanne’s eyes. She confidently told me to hide and everything was going to be okay, but now that I’m reflecting on it—her fearful expression didn’t match her words.

“How many innocent people have to die before he makes a mistake?”

“I wish I knew.” She tips the whiskey bottle, filling her glass again. “But here’s what I do know—this is a well-known bar in a small town. People won’t like the idea that one of their own can be murdered in cold blood and the killer walks free. The cops will be highly motivated to close this case. What’s one more angry delinquent, who is bound to fall into a life of crime anyway, behind bars?”

“Fuck you,” I growl. “Like I said, I didn’t do this. I would never hurt Suzanne. My mother. Any woman.”

“Would you kill to protect them?”

“What?” I croak, surprised at her candid question.

“Chandler, my team is comprised of hired assassins. But I am very careful about the jobs we agree to. Peroli and his men don’t need justice. They need to meet death—swiftly. That’s what we do.”

I inhale and exhale in silence. The nerves prickle through my forearms, up my shoulder, and then around my neck. I wish it was just nerves, but I’ll admit there’s a sprinkle of intrigue. I just don’t know how to respond.

She takes another sip from her glass, her eyes locked on me. “I know you’re not old enough to really know about whiskey, but this is superb.”

“It’s looting,” I grumble. “We’re drinking a dead woman’s prize possession.”

“I’d pay her for the drink, if I could.” She swivels the glass in her hand causing the amber liquid to swirl furiously. There’s something ethereal about Vesper. Something powerful. I envy her confident demeanor at the moment.

“If you’ve been watching me because you think the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree… I’m nothing like my dad. Suzanne took me in when she found me sleeping by the dumpsters out back. I needed a job, and somewhere to stay. That’s it. I don’t get into trouble. And I’ve definitely never killed anyone.”

“I know, Chandler. Which is why I think I can trust you.” She pulls Suzanne’s gun out of her pocket and sets it on the bar between us. “If you knew how to operate this properly, would you have stepped in? Would you be willing to take a criminal’s life, to save an innocent one?”

I glance at the gun, then Vesper’s steady gaze. “I think so. Your team is good guys…who kill bad guys?” I really need her to be good.

“It’s a little bit more complicated than that.”

I take a deep breath as I glance at my hands and see that they are finally still and steady. “Are you offering me a job?”

“I’m offering you a life,” she says. “But I can’t guarantee it’s better than this one.”

“What can you guarantee?”

“You’ll never be hungry again. You’ll always have a roof over your head. You’ll have a family, of sorts, but most importantly, my protection. And I promise, Chandler, I take really good care of my own.”

---