The Suppressor by Erik Carter (best free novels .txt) 📗

Asset—Welcome aboard, Silence Jones—had seemed like a natural stopping point.

He just hoped Briggs wouldn’t take too long processing the information. The old guy had gone back to staring at the wall.

And the cheap chair was still putting Laswell’s ass to sleep.

As Briggs pulsed his templed fingers, which were under his chin, propping up his face, Laswell thought again about the moment he welcomed Silence aboard.

He’d again been impressed with the character of the man that he’d chosen as the new Asset. Silence hadn’t celebrated, nor did he have any sort of downtrodden look on his face. He just stared back at Laswell, accepting his new future without emotion.

Earlier, Laswell had told Briggs about Silence’s training with Nakiri, so now Briggs was completely up to speed. In theory, this meant that Laswell might have to wait indefinitely in the torture chair until Briggs finished processing and broke his wall-stare.

Fortunately, Laswell had an excuse to get out of there. He had a plane to catch.

He checked his watch.

“Well, sir, now that you’re all caught up, I gotta get my ass on a plane to meet up with our new Asset in Pensacola.”

Briggs looked away from the wall, his bright blue eyes zoning in on Laswell. “Your Florida man only has a few hours left to avert a disaster.”

Laswell didn’t respond. Briggs hadn’t asked a question, after all.

Briggs sighed, then stood up.

Laswell followed suit. He stretched his arms over his head, then poked at both of his butt cheeks. Nothing. Completely asleep. Dead to the world.

Wonderful.

And now he was about to set the ass back down for a couple more hours for the flight to Pensacola. Fortunately he was flying private. Maybe the high-end accommodations would help to wake his butt up. Literally.

Briggs stretched as well, then walked around the desk, past Laswell. As they left the small office, Briggs flipped off the lights and locked the door.

The hallway had thin, matted carpet and flickering lights in the ceiling. All the other doors were shut except for one at the end, which was cracked open. There was the muffled voice of a man talking about stock prices.

“You’d better be right about Silence Jones,” Briggs said as they headed for the elevator.

“I am.”

Laswell knew he was right.

It wasn’t Silence’s experience and certainly not his training that made Laswell so confident. It was his grit. Silence’s X factor, the same quality that Jake Rowe’s lieutenant at the Pensacola Police Department had seen in him.

It was the quality that had led an unassuming, older, first-year police officer, former teacher to dispatch of four hardened criminals in a single night.

Yes, Silence Jones would be a quality Asset.

“Your drink, Mr. Beaty.”

Laswell had been resting his eyes. He blinked them open, smiled at the flight attendant—who wore a navy blue skirt suit, a scarf around her neck, and a gleaming smile—and took the tumbler from her, cupping the paper napkin to the bottom.

He had the rear of the Learjet all to himself, and the private airline—SkyTrail Aviation—was pampering him. They knew him as Humphrey Beaty, CFO of Clocktower Enterprises, LLC.

He eased back into the leather seat, which was soft, plush, gently used. Yes, this seat was much kinder to his ass than the chair back in Virginia. There was life in his cheeks again.

He took a sip of scotch and thought back to when Silence joined up a few weeks ago. Now Laswell was going to rendezvous with the guy once more in Pensacola. Prefects almost never went into the field. For Laswell, this was only the second time.

But this was not a normal assignment—both in how it was being handled and, more importantly, with the implications of its successful completion.

And as much confidence as Laswell had in the new Asset—all that bravado he’d given Briggs about sensing Silence’s good qualities, his ability to dispatch of people easily, learning the skills of a killer in one night—this was still jeopardizing Laswell’s own position. Everything in the Watchers was based on trust, and that trust came from a place just below a person’s ethical standards. Silence Jones was a gamble for Laswell. But Laswell could feel it. Feel it in his bones. This man was an Asset, through and through.

Nonetheless, Suppressor had pushed the limits of his first assignment. He’d been tasked with settling Lukas Burton weeks ago, but the man was still alive.

There was no time left. The ticking clock was about to stop ticking. It was only a matter of hours until Burton was to make his move. And while Suppressor hadn’t deduced exactly what Burton was up to, he had determined that it held critical national security implications.

Which meant the nation’s safety rested in the hands of one untested Asset.

Laswell took another sip.

A generous one.

He placed the tumbler in the cupholder. The ice cubes rattled against the glass.

His mind drifted back once more to when he welcomed Silence Jones to the Watchers—and how he’d immediately introduced Silence to his trainer.

Chapter Fifty-One

Laswell winked at the man in the hospital bed before him, the man who had just become Silence Jones, Suppressor, Asset 23.

“And now, Mr. Jones, I’d like you to meet your new best friend for the next few weeks. Asset 17. Name of Nakiri.”

He leaned back and opened the door, motioned for the person waiting around the corner, and allowed her to step past him and into the room.

Suppressor’s growly voice let out a single word of surprise. “Christie?”

He immediately recoiled, eyes squinting, brow furrowing.

Laswell shook his head. That damn throat was gonna be a constant problem for Suppressor. Laswell wished he’d brought some cough drops for the guy.

Nakiri went to the bed.

“Holy shit. They did a hell of a job on you, Rowe.” Her eyes roamed over him, going lustful. “You went from David Schwimmer handsome to Johnny Depp hot.”

“You can forget the name Jake Rowe,” Laswell said. “Nakiri, meet Silence Jones.”

Nakiri blinked twice. “Silence? You named yourself Silence?”

Laswell answered for him. “Mmm-hmm. But you’ll know him as Suppressor.” He turned to the