Page 11 of Gabe

Between my meeting with Tansie Bell, and now with Blake Adder, I’d been talking a lot that day. My throat was starting to feel raw, but there was no chance to let it rest. My meeting with the director tomorrow would require just as much talking as today. Possibly even more.

All I could do was keep pushing forward and hope my voice didn’t give out.

Blake gestured toward the file in my hand. “I found the answer to that. It’s documented on the last page. There was a maintenance shaft in the basement that we missed. It wasn’t secure. That seems to be how the person who planted the bomb got into the building. Once inside, it wouldn’t be hard to sneak up to the Roth apartment. And you’ve already demonstrated how easy it is to pick a lock.”

I looked back at the page in question, which was already sitting open in my hand. Just as Blake had described, it showed several pictures of a basement, including a close up of the hatch to the maintenance shaft.

“Where’s agent Wilson?”

Blake was obviously surprised by the sudden change of topic and took several moments to respond to what should have been an easy question. “What?”

“Agent Gloria Wilson,” I snapped, already getting impatient. “She was working this case with you, wasn’t she?”

“Oh, right. She’s been out sick with pneumonia. The weather’s been terrible recently and I guess it got to her.”

Remembering the frozen sleet that had greeted our arrival at the safe house and made transferring Sebastian out of the RV infinitely harder, I could agree with at least one thing he said.

“A lot of things have been terrible recently.” I held up the pictures of the basement. “You know, we didn’t miss this maintenance shaft. We discounted it because it was bricked over when the building was renovated. To get in that way, the wall would first have to be demolished.”

“Yes,” Blake agreed with me, though he elongated the word like he wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Which you can clearly see in that picture. Someone broke through the wall from the outside.”

“It is very clear in the picture,” I agreed. “Except... Did you know I was recently able to get a look at Agent Wilson’s original notes. She wrote down that the basement was the only part of the building to remain untouched by fire or explosion. She even included her own pictures with the note. Although, in her pictures this wall was clearly still intact.”

I held up the picture of the broken bricks so both of us could see it.

“Strange how the wall wasn’t broken until after Agent Wilson went on sick leave.”

The two of us stared at each other, neither speaking. We didn’t even blink. No more words were necessary. My meaning was clear.

A deep rumble, almost like a growl, built in the back of Blake’s throat and his fingers slowly curled into fists. “Where did you see Wilson’s original file?”

That answer didn’t require words either, which was good, because I was running out.

He answered it for me.

“It was that Chinese cunt, wasn’t it? Should have dealt with her when I had the chance.”

Although I didn’t react outwardly, internally I laughed at the idea of Blake ever having a chance to deal with Lily.

I set the file back on the table between us and tugged at the cuff of my left sleeve again.

“First, Lily is Korean. Not Chinese. If you’re going to insult someone, at least be accurate. And second...”

Between one word and the next, I pulled out a knife that was strapped to the inside of my wrist and threw it at Blake. The four-inch-long blade planted deep in his gut before he even realized what was happening.

“Wha—”

He never got to finish his question as the pain hit. His hand pressed against his stomach, and he seemed genuinely shocked to find it covered in blood.

The poor white furniture was going to be ruined.

“Don’t move around too much,” I said as I stood from my own spotless chair. “Gut wounds are tricky. They bleed slow, so you should survive.”

He tried to stand and face me, but the pain knocked him off his feet and he slid to his knees. The hand not pressing against his stomach moved toward his gun, but I grabbed the weapon out of its holster before he had a chance.

“I told you not to move around too much.”

The blood was coming faster now, staining the whole front of his body a deep crimson, like someone had poured paint on him.

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