Chapter 1

Somewhere North of Wichita, Kansas

Darkness had fallen quickly, like a shroud across the deserted parking lot. A a small, solitary street lamp provided the only source of light, casting an eerie, orange glow over the shadow of a Sedan, tucked neatly down the side of an old abandoned warehouse. Two hunched figures appeared from the rear of the car, their harried voices growing louder as they exited the alley.

"I told you, this is the place!"

"There's no one here, Jensen. There's no one for miles around! I think we should just go-"

Jensen swivelled on his heel, and thumped his hand onto the chest of his companion, who halted instantly.

"No. We stay"

The second man nodded, and satisfied he'd made his point, Jensen turned, and strode towards the light, mumbling under his breath.

"Roach, man?! Are you coming?"

Rubbing his chest from the earlier blow, Roach reluctantly followed, cursing his luck for being stuck in a deserted car park in the small hours of the morning. Dawn would soon break, and any chance of the elusive meeting would vanish.

Roach glanced around as they finally reached the small shaft of light which illuminated a little of their surroundings. Empty crates were stacked haphazardly against the side of the warehouse, the remnants of what they once contained, strewn across the floor. Windows were boarded up, doors bolted. A sign, the writing partially obscured, hung precariously by one corner, swinging back and forth in the breeze that was beginning to pick up momentum. It was clear no one had been here for a very long time. Roach glanced up as the street lamp flickered and died, plunging the parking lot once again into inky blackness.

"Shit!"

Marcus Jensen had never been a patient man. Much less one for candlestine meetings in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. He wasn't a bad man, in fact compared to his associates, he should be polishing his halo. He just did what he needed to to get by. And if that meant breaking a few rules now and then, then so be it. His sole purpose was survival.

"I thought you said he'd be here at midnight"

Jensen ignored his companion and rummaged around in his pockets, letting out an exasperated sigh as he dug his hand deeper into the lining of his jacket.

"Jensen!"

Silence.

"Jensen! You there?"

A small flame emanated for Jensens right hand, casting a shadow across his rugged features.

"Yeah,. I'm here" Jensen confirmed, amused at his companions obvious discomfort of his surroundings.

"Where's your man?" Roach asked, leaning against the Sedan. "He was meant to be here an hour ago"

Jensen looked up as the street lamp flickered back to life, and in one swift movement, he snapped his Zippo lighter shut.

"Relax, Roach. He'll be here" Jensen replied with a grin, casually flicking the top of the lighter open and shut with his thumb. "Cullens a man of his word"

Jim Roach glanced around, his sharp, highly trained eye searching every dark corner for any sign of movement, his broad shoulders tensed and ready for a fight. His years as an operative for the FIRM had taught him to be on his guard, to be suspicious of every given situation.

Roach stuffed his wind weathered hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders as the wind began to pick up, hurling a tin can and an empty takeout box across the parking lot.

"Cullen sure does pick his places" Roach commented wryly, glancing up as something creaked ominously above his head "I mean, a pool and a few bikini models wouldn't have been to much to ask for!"

Roach chuckled at the irony of his own joke.

Jensen smiled as another click of the lighter caught Roach's attention

"Hey, come on Roach. Not afraid of the dark, are ya?"

Jensens dark eyes slid to the smaller man on his right.

"No" Roach replied defensively. "It's just that somewhere a little more-"

He searched for the right word

"Populated, would've been preferable"

"More people to see things they shouldn't" Jensen replied easily with another click of the Lighter. "And you know what happens to people who see things they shouldn't?"

Jensens gaze met Roach's, and his green eyes widened with the insinuation laced in the younger mans words.

Roach's brows knitted together in a frown as Jensen's shoulders began to shake, and suddenly realised Jensen was laughing. His confusion turned to irritation as he watched the cocky operative stow his lighter back in his jacket pocket, and realised with some chagrin he reminded him of someone else he used to know.

"Relax, man. I was kidding!" Jensen exclaimed as Roach let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Jeez, of all the people they could send, and I get stuck with a nervous nelly..."

Roach opened his mouth to protest, when a set of head lights swept around the vague outline of another abandoned building on the opposite side of the lot. He snapped his mouth closed and narrowed his eyes on the advancing limousine. In the rapidly fading light, he could just about make out three hazy outlines through the window. Automatically, his hand found its way to the gun snuggly tucked in the waistband of his sand coloured chinos.

"We're on" Jensen murmured, taking a step away from the Sedan.

Roach took a deep breath as the limo halted a few feet away and moved to join Jensen at the front of their own car. They were shoulder to shoulder.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened and three suited men exited the car, and immediately Jim Roach's interest was piqued. The older man, with dark brown hair permeated with streaks of grey, took the lead, his confident, powerful gait, insinuating that of a well seasoned soldier.

"Mr Cullen" Jensen nodded in acknowledgement "it's good to see you again, Sir"

"Marcus" Cullen returned. His voice was deep, almost glutteral, resonating deep from the base of his throat. Roach shivered slightly, perturbed by this formiddable individual. He turned to look at Roach.

"You must be Roach" Cullen extended his hand. "I'm pleased to be doing business with you"

Roach could only manage a half smile as he twisted his hand free from the iron grip of the older man.

His eyes travelled over his well worn features. He was a good looking man, no doubt about that. He was strong and athletic.

Roach had read his file. For his fifty years, he kept himself in good shape, and was never short of a female companion or two. Despite his good looks, years of hardship were beginning to show, adding a few years onto the permanent lines etched into his brow. His once soft brown eyes now had a cold, hard edge, that made the small hairs on the back of Roach's neck stand on end.

"Well, let's get this over with" Roach replied, not particularly in the mood for pleasantries. "Did you bring the goods?"

Cullen chuckled

"We are in a hurry, aren't we" he smiled "Slow down, Mr Roach. I have the goods. They are to be transported into the United States, noon on Friday. You will have you share then."

Roach snorted

"How do you intend to get the stuff into the States?" He asked incredulously, ignoring Jensens worried expression thrown in his direction "you think you can just, walk it through customs?"

"You underestimate me, Mr Roach. One man will bring it into the States. Under the radar. No-one will know were there"

Roach and Jensen fell silent as they processed the implication.

"Now just hang on a minute" Jensen pushed himself away from the hood of the car he'd been using as a perch "You mean Hawke and that machine of his?"

Jensen looked nervously between Cullens lackeys who remained inanimate.

"Very perceptive, Mr Jensen"

Roach remained silent, fearing any false move would blow his cover. He hadn't been prepared for this development, and now it was imperative he adapted accordingly.

"No, no, no... You're crazy!" Jensen exclaimed, jabbing a finger in Cullens direction"If you think Hawkes-"

"DONT worry about Stringfellow Hawke" Cullen replied, cutting Jensen off mid flow. "I can assure you, his compliance will not be an issue"

Jensen ran a hand through his dark mass of curls as he blew out his cheeks.

"You'll kill us all, man" Jensen muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

A slight movement from the rear of the car, teased Roach's peripheral vision. Cullens head swivelled as the rear door opened, drawing Roach's attention to a fourth occupant, who had waited until now to exit the car. His mouth dropped open as he took in the blinding haze of white, the eye patch as black as the night that hid a myriad of secrets, and the silver handle of a cane, glinting in the moonlight.

Roach couldn't speak, any words he attempted to formulate, caught fast in his throat. Feeling the heat begin to rise, Roach loosened his collar, and swiped away a solitary bead of sweat from his brow.

The newcomer tipped his Panama hat in greeting, a wide smile spreading across his face

"Gentlemen"

"Michael-" Roach croaked in reply, before Cullen turned back to face the men.

"As I said. Hawkes compliance will not be an issue"