Howe grimaced. "As I said before, we only want the production source to be eliminated. If there's a chance that you can remove the leader from the equation at the same time, that would be a bonus. But, let's be clear, that is not your main directive," he explained.

Jaxon stopped in front of a picture window that overlooked a pristine meadow surrounded by pine trees. The location they had chosen certainly was isolated. Jaxon stared out at the serene surroundings as he contemplated what the director told him. Of the countless assassinations that he'd been sent to carry out, it was that first one that remained so indelible. It was the only time an error had occurred throughout his illustrious career.

The news that the son had actually survived should have brought him joy. It did not. And now, the same company-the same organization that had sent him out to kill so many times before-was about to send him out once again. Jaxon smirked. He saw right through their bureaucracy about mission objectives. He knew the underlying order instantly, and it was to kill Pablo Guzman. Now, he really was in a no-win situation: accept the mission to kill a man that he'd already thought was dead, or refuse the mission and risk losing everything he'd ever known. Literally.

As he contemplated this, Jaxon wondered if the second option would be better in the long run. To erase the memories of every person that he'd killed had a certain appeal. But what else might he lose? The memory of Lily? Of Celeste? His parents? His childhood? When would it end?

"Jaxon?" Howe said, bringing him back to the present. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just ... thinking," Jaxon said. "So, what's the plan? Am I to go back to Mexico and cut the head off of the snake?"

"Not exactly. What we've been able to gather is that the drug is not being manufactured on earth. Our chemists have determined that the production cannot be replicated at our gravity level, so it stands to reason that it's being produced on a space station. Yet another reason we want you as our man," Howe said.

"Do we know which one or do you suggest I go gallivanting through space until I stumble upon the right one?" Jaxon asked, his words saturated with disgust.

"Ha. Perry said that you had a sense of humor," Howe said, smiling. "The answer to your question is both: yes and no. First, the no. We do not know precisely which station the facility is located on. We do, however, know that it is in the outer ring."

"Well, the outer ring was going to be my next stop on my run from the killers," Jaxon said.

Howe nodded his head. "The problem is that Pablo is known to occupy multiple stations in that region. His family business has grown since the development of the drug, and he's expanded his empire to cover prostitution, human trafficking, and gambling. You may or may not be aware, but there are at least a dozen casino and gambling houses scattered throughout the region. Your guess is as good as ours as to which station is being used to produce the drug."

"And you expect me to do this alone? It will take me months to track down the location."

"No, no. You'll have company. We'll be sending you with a team. Besides yourself, we've assembled three additional candidates to fill out your detachment."

"A single detachment to search through a dozen outer ring space stations? And all the while, I'll be avoiding a continual barrage of assassination attempts? Why not just send active agents that are already in the region? I know they exist; I was part of several detachments during my time with the company."

"In a perfect world, Jaxon, that's exactly what we'd do. However, Guzman has certain ... political ties around the world. Simply sending in a hit team in today's environment would be a bureaucratic nightmare," Howe said, dancing around the true mission directive.

"Exactly why I left the GSA. I was tired of being your weapon," Jaxon said, throwing the implied assassination back into Howe's face.

"Be that as it may, this is off book. Your team will consist of retired agents, along with a single chemist to aid in your search."

"So, I get an untrained scientist and two additional agents that are probably older than dirt? Am I clear on things?" Jaxon asked scornfully.

Howe stared at Jaxon impatiently. "The chemist who's going along has been fully trained as a field agent, although he has no real experience."

"And the two retired agents? Do I get to at least pick who I'll be working with?" Jaxon asked, Gillette's face flashing in his mind, as he would have been his number one choice. He cringed.

"Unfortunately, no. Your team has already been selected. As you might imagine, locating decommissioned agents that are suitable for field work is quite a challenge."

Jaxon nodded, fully realizing the gravity of the situation. The moment he saw Evans' face on that landing platform, he knew that he was screwed. Now, with everything that the director had just told him, he was confident in his initial gut reaction.

"Well, when do I get to meet my flunkies?" Jaxon asked, exasperated at the situation.

"Ironically, you've met one of them already. Miles Oliver has been fully briefed on the mission and is on site and ready to proceed."

"And the others? Besides the scientist, that is," Jaxon asked nervously. He sensed the director wasn't telling him everything.

"Ah, yes. The final member of your team is on her way as we speak."

A shocked look spread across Jaxon's face. "She?"

"Yes. I think you might even know her. The final member of your team is Camille Parker," Howe said, obviously aware of the implications of the past relationship.

"Sonofabitch," Jaxon mumbled. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her? Jaxon wondered.

As Jaxon digested this last bit of information, Howe retreated to his attache and withdrew a commPad, a paper-thin communication and information device.

"The personnel files for your team are all on here. Give them a read through. And for God's sake, clean yourself up," Howe said, finally commenting on Jaxon's appearance. "You'll find everything you need in the lower levels of the facility. There's a barber on sublevel two that will fix you right up. After you've cleaned up, you can get outfitted on sublevel three. By then, the rest of your team should be on site, and you can begin planning your mission."

Jaxon lowered himself into a chair and stared blankly at the GSA logo emblazoned on the commPad. He contemplated how he would react when he saw her again. When he saw his fiancee-who, until now, thought he was dead.

27.

After dropping his belongings off in his bunkroom on sublevel one, Jaxon proceeded to the showers to get cleaned up. Although he'd had a brief shower on the yacht, he could've spent hours underneath that showerhead, relaxing. He'd understood the effects of being off planet for an extended period of time would be substantial, but he was surprised at the severity.

When Jaxon felt that he'd used up the last drop of hot water, he reluctantly turned off the shower valve and dried off. Stepping out of the shower, he noticed that his clothing had been removed, and a pile of neatly folded fatigues had been left in their place. They were quite similar to what he'd worn when an active agent, but with some modern twists. The entire uniform seemed to fit him perfectly, and he questioned how they got his size so quickly.

His next stop was the so-called barber. He sat Jaxon down in the chair and went to work, cleaning up the rat's nest that existed on his head. Twenty minutes and eight inches of hair later, Jaxon was a new man. In addition to the drastic haircut, he'd gotten a close shave, saving a goatee at his request. Still, it was a drastic appearance change from what Jaxon had composed over the past eight years.

Back in his room, he stood in front of the mirror, continuing to analyze what would no doubt take some getting used to. The purpose of letting himself go, for so long, was no longer necessary. He didn't need to hide anymore, and he felt better about himself. His self-admitted admiration was halted by a knock on the door.

Jaxon opened the door to a friendly face. Evans stood alone, smiling. "Can I come in?"

Jaxon stepped aside, allowing the assistant director into his compact bunkroom.

"So. Quite an afternoon?" Evans said.

"I'll say," Jaxon said, taking a seat on his bed and glancing at the dossier for Camille.

"Have a chance to review any of that yet?" Evans asked, noting the file that was currently displayed.

"No, just got back a few minutes ago. I have to say, though, the team selection worries me a little," Jaxon said as he continued to skim through the pages of Cam's file.

"The director wasn't lying when he said that we had slim pickings. Most agents either die on the job or are promoted within the company. He's not about to pull some advanced agent out of some high-level office to give you assistance."

Jaxon nodded. "I get that, but Camille? Do you think she's the best choice, regardless of her qualifications? I'd almost be better off with a three-man team," Jaxon said as he got deeper into her file.

Evans remained silent as Jaxon continued to read.

Although fraternization inside the company was frowned upon, it was virtually inevitable in certain cases. Jaxon's case was one of them. His devotion to his job dictated that any outside relationships were fundamentally impossible. The company looked the other way when Jaxon and Camille became an item, electing to allow them a nominal semblance of a normal life.

"My God," Jaxon stammered. "They shut her down after the news of my death?"

"Well? What did you expect? She was in love with you, and she thought you were dead. You didn't think about cluing her in on your ... departure?"

"I ... I thought about it, but I didn't want to force her hand into something that she might regret. So, I felt it better for her to cope on her own." Jaxon let the commPad drop to the bed. "I guess I always thought that she loved the job more than she loved me, making the decision easier."

"Easier for her, or easier for you?" Evans asked.

Jaxon closed his eyes and leaned back. "Jesus, Perry, does she even know?"

"Not yet. When I reached out to her, she'd recovered surprisingly well from her mental breakdown. All she knows is there's a mission, and it's going to the outer ring. She knows it's a four-member team, but she's unaware of any individual identities. She'll be here in a few hours, and we'll have time to acclimate her to her new reality."

"Holy shit, a breakdown?"

"I was there when they told her about the explosion. She imploded instantly, not being able to cope with anything for quite some time. We gave her nearly nine months to recover, but she never did. She was able to function in society, but not to the level of an active agent. Not until recently, that is."

"What happened? Why the change?" Jaxon asked.

"Not sure. Perhaps it was just the passage of time."

Frustrated, Jaxon tossed the device across the bed. He glanced down at the display, and it flipped to the scientist.

"What about this one?" Jaxon asked, picking up the commPad again.

"Like the director said, he's a chemist, and he's green. In the sense of fieldwork, that is," Evans said, adjusting the lapels on his collar.

Despite being inactive for so long, Jaxon picked up on the nervous tic instantly. "So, a scientist with no field experience. Great."

Evans glanced at his watch before continuing. "Well, it's as the director said. He's had simulated training, and we feel that he's a prime candidate for your team."

"What exactly about him makes him prime material for this mission?" Jaxon asked, noticing more signs of discomfort from Evans.

"He's a young, impressionable man. He's-"

"How young?" Jaxon asked as he delved deeper into the file.

"Compared to you and me? He's a child. He's twenty-three, but he's an accomplished scientist. He graduated from MIT with honors and came on to the GSA immediately. He's spent a few years in the research and development department of one of our subsidiary companies. About a year ago, the director brought him into our division, where he's successfully completed his training. He wants to make a difference, and both the director and I feel that with the right tutelage, he could develop into a talented asset."

Jaxon continued to observe Evans' suspicious behavior as he explained the attributes of the scientist. He began to wonder if his skills in observation were a little rusty, as his one-time handler quickly returned to his normal behavior. Then, right when he was about to dismiss the ordeal entirely, Jaxon noticed Evans look at his watch for the third time since coming in, and he was continually shifting his weight from foot to foot. He's clearly holding something back regarding the scientist, but what? Jaxon wondered.

"Yes. I think he'll do fine," Jaxon said, deciding to hold any further questions until later.

Jaxon closed the file on the chemist and opened the last one on the commPad. Miles Oliver. "What's the story on-"

Suddenly, the lights in the room flickered, and sirens began to blare. He studied Evans' reaction, and it was a cross between bewilderment and equal surprise. He was difficult to read.

"What's going on?" Jaxon asked, leaping to his feet.

"I ... I don't know. I'll find out," he said before stepping out into the hallway.

Jaxon shuffled nervously about his bunkroom, wondering if the assassins had somehow found out their location. With his advanced training kicking in, he quickly prepared for yet another bug-out. He grabbed his duffle and started tossing things in, beginning with his new environmental suit and helmet. Next, he threw in the commPad along with a number of other necessities that had been given to him upon his arrival. Within moments of completing his packing, the door burst open.

Evans looked at the packed bag and smiled. "Oh, yes. Your motto still stands, I see. Always be prepared," he said. "Looks like we have a change of plans. The compound is under some kind of attack, most likely more of the assassins coming after you. Sorry, old chap."

"Are you certain that's who it is? I've only been here for a few hours."

"Unknown. Very few people know this place even exists, so-"

"The mole? Did somebody leak that we were here?" Jaxon asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"Again, unknown. There's a sport UTV in a storage shed at the back of the property. You and Miles need to get out quickly. As soon as you two sneak out the back door, I'll ... create some kind of diversion in hopes of drawing their attention away. Once you get on the road, head for the spaceport in New Mexico. Miles knows where it's at."

Jaxon knew as well, but it had been years since he'd been there. "Where exactly are we? Will the UTV have enough fuel for that distance?" Jaxon asked, concerned.

Evans rushed out into the hallway, leading Jaxon through the sublevel corridors. "Yes. We're only about a hundred miles away, and Miles has driven the route already. Besides, the quad is, how do I say it? Special? It has an energy drive system that doesn't require solid fuel. It's a new prototype that we've been developing for a few years. Trust me, you're going to have a blast," Evans said as he began to climb the stairs to the main level.

When they reached the landing, Miles had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and was standing in an attack stance, his feet shoulder width apart. Jaxon nearly laughed out loud at how ridiculous the man looked.

"Relax, partner. We've got this," Jaxon said, then continued to explain the plan while Evans fumbled through a closet at the front of the cabin, looking for something in particular. A moment later, he called out to them.

"Okay, guys. On my mark, you need to move quickly. If this diversion goes as planned, you'll have a wide open window for at least several minutes."

Jaxon was not one to question Evans' motives. He'd learned to trust the man early on, and in situations like this, it paid off. "Ready."

Miles shuffled from side to side and simply nodded his head. Evans opened up the black box that he'd taken from the closet and pulled out an antenna. He flipped a couple of switches on the console, and a rumble could be heard out in front of the cabin. Jaxon's curiosity got the best of him, and he moved to a window and pulled a curtain to the side. What he saw caused him to smile.

"A remote-controlled decoy car?" Jaxon asked.

Evans returned his smile. It's a fully functional vehicle, with some added modifications from the company. If I drive the car away from the cabin, you boys should be clear to head in the other direction."

Jaxon walloped Evans on the back as he hustled toward the back door. He cracked it open, an inch at first, then a bit more, until he got a good view of the open field. From his vantage point, it was clear as far as the eye could see. But, for all he knew, there could be more killers in the forest beyond. Exactly where they needed to go for their escape vehicle. Before stepping out into the open, Jaxon slipped his freshly issued energy pistol from his holster and flipped off the safety. "You ready?" he asked.

Miles nodded silently and pulled his own weapon out. Then, they stepped out and ran through the open field before ducking under the cover of the trees. Ten minutes later, they arrived at the storage shed, just where Evans said it would be. Once inside, they tossed their duffels into the compact cargo bed before they both moved toward the driver's seat.

"Sorry, pal. I'm driving," Jaxon said, slipping past Miles and into the seat. Miles huffed with disappointment and quickly moved around to the passenger side. Within moments, they were out of the shed and winding their way along a dirt road, heading for the unknown.

28.

Unknown space station, located in the outer ring.