Zero Day

more blow to the head, and Kelvin fell over on his side, hitting his head on the wooden floor. With his arms tied behind his back and his ankles duct-taped together, he was unable to speak through the dirty cloth taut across his mouth.
His head spun.
Aspasia was saying something, but he couldn’t decipher it. It was in English, yes, but what was she saying?
Mumble, mumble.
Kelvin closed his eyes. This was how his life would end. Here in an old city where he had no family, no friends, no one. He had been waiting for weeks for a bevy of assassins to come get him.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t as popular as he had thought.
The only person who had come to the door in the last two months was Aspasia. She wasn’t even looking for him per se. All she wanted was information on Ulysses. For that, she was willing to kill, but only to get to her goals.
Maybe nobody else cared if Kelvin was dead or alive.
Perhaps it would have been wiser for him to turn himself over to the CIA. They should be around here somewhere. Weren’t they everywhere?
“Get him up.” Aspasia’s voice again.
Strong arms lifted his shoulders and put him back on his bended knees. He felt like that samurai warrior about to be beheaded.
At least Aspasia wasn’t asking him to commit harakiri.
Kelvin tuned out Aspasia, and began to pray for forgiveness from God.
I know what got me here, Lord. I need… Help me, Lord. I need You now. If You think I should get out of here, then please hurry. If You think this is the end of me on earth, please let it be painless.
“When was the last time you communicated with Ulysses?” Aspasia asked.
Make it painless.
Kelvin couldn’t return the ten million dollars that Aspasia had paid him for the work on MedusaNet. It was too late. The money was tainted, his reputation ruined, and now his life was at stake.
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
I Timothy 6:10 offered no comfort to Kelvin.
He was finished.
Tears pooled in his eyes.
Thank God his mother wasn’t here to see this cesspool he was swimming in.
He closed his eyes and let the tears wash over his face. They stung his cheeks a little. He felt his own warm tears flow down his chin, his neck, and onto his shirt.
A sudden flash of bright light startled him. Had he been shot?
The light was so bright he couldn’t open his eyes. Weirdly, it made him almost rejoice, as if he were in a passageway out of this sorry world.
Suddenly he heard a familiar voice calling his name.
He hadn’t heard the voice in four years.
It can’t be.
Kelvin was a bag of bones, perhaps as heavy as the rucksack Yona had to carry in basic training a long time ago when she had been on Parris Island, South Carolina. That seemed like eons ago, way before her parents decided to move to Jerusalem and become Israeli citizens.
After Yona finished eight years with the US Marines, she joined her parents in Israel and found herself recruited by the Mossad.
Five years later, she had betrayed her newly adopted country.
All because of this man.
Yona dragged Kelvin by his collar out of the room until his ragged shirt ripped.
Behind them, CIA Protective Agent Dario de la Cruz gone rogue and Dmitri’s men—mostly former FSB—were cleaning the floor with Aspasia’s men.
As for that elusive snake, she had escaped by leaping out of the window before Yona could catch her. She missed Aspasia’s boots by a hair’s breath.
Yona watched Aspasia parachute four floors down to the rained-out dark alley below. Never looking back, the woman once known as Meta Hoon vanished into the night.
Yona counted five of Aspasia’s men against Dario and Dmitri. She jumped in, but Dario brushed her away.
“Get Kelvin out of here!” Dario yelled at her.
And so she did.
The hallway was dimly lit, but most of the lights were out, so Yona could not see into the dark distance. Somewhere at the end of the hallway, there should be an elevator.
In front of them was the top of the stairs. Four flights down.
“Can you walk?” Yona asked Kelvin.
He didn’t answer.
Passed out, but not dead.
Could she drag him down the stairs?
The fighting continued behind her. She didn’t trust the CIA nor FSB—retired or otherwise.
She should have expected Dario to arrive soon after she did. She had beaten them to the building by a few minutes, but former agents of the FSB?
Why would Dario work with them?
Granted, they were Dmitri’s men. Dmitri was now a naturalized American citizen living on a farm in North Georgia, and having very little contact with the outside world—until the year before, when he had been called in to help Binary Systems, the same company that Kelvin worked in.
Kelvin groaned. One eye opened.
“Can you get up?” Without waiting for an answer, Yona pulled him to his feet and dragged him to the stairs.
“Wait—Yona?” Kelvin rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”
To kill you. “Talk later, dude. Right now we need to get you out of here before we both get killed.”
“Where’s Aspasia?”
Yona shrugged. She pushed Kelvin forward. He limped down the stairs, but otherwise he said nothing about whether that was his route of choice or if they should have taken the elevator.
“Walk faster.” Yona knew the stairway was dark, but they had to get out of here.
“I can’t see where I’m going.” Kelvin pointed into the abyss. “I don’t usually come down these stairs at night.”
Ping!
Yona spun around. She heard it again.
Someone’s shooting at us!
“Whoa.” Kelvin must have realized it now because he lowered his voice. He picked up his pace.
He still had his sense about him, Yona thought.
They ran down the stairs in the low light, guided by a dim light on the ground floor. Kelvin was in front. Yona picked up the rear, praying that nobody would