Page 32 of The Tower

I'm watching her from the bedroom window, not sure how to feel about what I'm seeing as her face contorts in pain. I'm angry with her for being so stubborn and for not listening to me, but I also admire her will to fight. She wants to get better as quickly as possible. She hates to be weakened like this, and she hates being the victim in this story.

I can only applaud that.

And I know I would do the same thing.

Just like Libby, I too have developed a little morning routine that I prefer to do by myself, far away from her curious eyes.

The Covey has no way to track me, but they also have no way to contact me, due to me leaving my phone behind. The latter poses a problem, considering my target is still alive, and I was told to remain on standby in case they find a way to take him out.

Luckily, I was smart enough to consider potential problems like this when I prepared this house. One of the reasons I chose this place was not only its remote and random location but the fact that it was quite easily equipped with a secret office, hidden behind a bookshelf on the first floor. The small room used to be a big walk-in closet with no window and a door placed at the far end of the living room. I exchanged that door with a smaller one, attaching the shelf right in front of it so it would hide the door entirely, and that was it.

The internet setup is secure and encrypted, making it hard—but not impossible—to trace my location when I use it to communicate with the outside world.

When I built it, I hoped that I would never have to use it. It was only meant for emergencies. And emergencies were not part of the plan.

Not killing Clyde Abbott wasn't part of the plan.

Bringing his secret niece here wasn't part of the plan.

Fucking his niece wasn't part of the plan.

Feeling fucking responsible for her wasn't part of the plan.

Since the Covey's only way to contact me is via the cell phone I left behind, I was the one who had to initiate contact, using a secure voiceover internet connection. I called Tom for the first time two days ago. My heart raced in tense suspense as I expected him to accuse me of abandoning the Covey when my job was still unfinished. After all, I had been out of reach for more than forty-eight hours, something that has never happened before.

But he wasn't suspicious at all, revealing that he hasn't dialed my number once since I left my phone behind, which also meant there was nothing new to report.

That was a relief on the one hand and annoying on the other because it meant the Covey was getting nowhere with their approach to Clyde Abbott. And as long as he's still alive, I'm not off the hook.

Today, however, is different. I can tell by the tone of Tom's voice right away.

"Keane!" he barks at me. "Where the fuck are you? Why aren't you answering your goddamn phone?"

There we go. This is the kind of response I was expecting.

"Lying low for a while," I simply say, trying to sound nonchalant while my pulse is racing at top speed. "Remember, I was the last person Clyde looked at before he jumped inside that elevator. I was wearing a mask, but just in case he or any of his men knew who I was... I should probably be careful myself."

There's a pause at the other end, making me wonder whether Tom is buying my bullshit. He's not the brightest bulb in the box but not a total idiot either, so this could go either way.

"Any news about Abbott?" I ask, attempting to stop his contemplation before he has time to become suspicious.

He lets out an annoyed growl before he replies. "Not really, man, or well, kind of. The guy is gone! We had eyes on him during the first few days, holding back while they were getting ready to put his wife to rest. But once she was in the ground, boom! Asshole disappeared."

I furrow my eyebrows as anger and surprise blend in a grimace on my face. "What do you mean, he disappeared? How is that possible?"

"We don't fucking know! He's not at any of his usual places. We checked them all. There's security at every single one of his places within the city and the family's country home, but he's not there."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We are," Tom insists. "We've been watching all his places since the event, and we haven’t seen him enter any of them. He stayed at the hospital first, then a hotel, but we have no fucking clue where he went after his wife's funeral."

"Fuck!" I hiss. "Why didn't we take him out while he was still at the hotel? We had him then."

Tom lets out a dark and evil laugh at the other end.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he exclaims. "Why didn'tyoutake him out on the tower like you were supposed to? We wouldn't have all this trouble if it wasn't for your massive failure!"

I nod, biting my lips to keep myself from saying something I might regret.

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