Chapter one of book "The Number 52"

Chapter One Hit List One dim yellow tinted street lamp lit my path as I walked the back streets and alleys of Chicago. I dragged my feet across the broken and dirty sidewalk as depressing and horrible thoughts continued to pound through my head. Hands in my pockets, head down, my two day old suit fit tightly and snugly to my body. I felt a vibration in my pocket. Cell phone. Slowly, I pulled it out. Text message. Joey. I pressed my fingertip to the silver button to select the “view now” option. A circle shaped series of dots spun about as an indication of the message loading. I stopped walking to see the message more clearly as the words filled the small Motorola Krzr screen. I began to read the text. A gust of wind blew down the narrow road. I rushed forward several steps and sat hard in an old wooden bench. As I scrolled down to read the last words of the text, a loud roar echoed down the passage and two bright headlights emerged at the end of the lane. The vehicle slowed as it nears me, and suddenly it occurred to me that I may be in some danger. I stand up and rapidly begin to walk away from the ever nearing car. Pressing speed dial 6 on the phone the device begins calling Joey. He picked up on the third ring. “Hey girl! What's up?” “Well, um I've got a car right behind me and it's kinda freaking me out.” “Well, then just put the pedal to the medal and if the car keeps up with you, try to attract some police attention.” I grimaced. Time to come clean. “Yeah-- well that's the problem. I'm on foot. In an alley. Alone.” Silence. The car pulled up right next to me forcing me to step into a doorway to avoid becoming roadkill. The car pulled forward a bit more so the door of the car was accessible to the wide opening made for the doorway. I quickly began taking mental notes. Color-- unidentifiable in darkness with such bright lights around it, but definitely something dark. Model-- Lamborghini Gallardo. Bought within the last couple of years. Black tinted windows. That implies either undercover law enforcement or gang. “Joey? I--” “Gotta go. Bye.” “Uhhm, what?” The phone went dead. The window rolled down. A man with a black pinstripe suit and matching Fedora was staring at the windshield. Dark fairly long hair. This man lived well. Then he turned and looked at me. Brown eyes. A day's worth of stubble on his chin. Wendell. Joey's best friend and my own good friend. Wendell worked for Joey in the CIA. Not to many people knew that. I think I'm the only person in the world that is not a CIA agent that knows about them two. I smiled. “Back up and let me get in.” He flashed a very bright set of teeth at me in the shape of a smile. Threw the gear into reverse. Thirteen seconds later, I was sitting in the passenger leather coated seat of a million dollar government car with an all black interior; a soft blue light coming from nowhere filled the small vehicle. Wendell spoke for the first time that night, but it wasn't to me. “Objective acquired. This is Dell returning to headquarters.” He nearly whispered this information into a small microphone protruding from the dashboard. Suddenly, without warning, Wendell pushed the pedal. The gear was in “Drive”. I suddenly realized what was about to happen. The car shot forward. I head shot back. Cars shot across a highway we so uncivilizedly crossed. Wendell produced a HTC touch HD from absolutely nowhere and handed it to me. I looked at the screen. It was already calling Joey's number. “Give me your phone.” the low voice came from Wendell's direction. His brow was wrinkled with concentration. I held out my blue Motorola. He snatched it up with his gloved hand and swiftly dropped it outside his open window where I saw through the mirror the electronic smash into thousands of pieces. “Hello? Sam? Samantha? Sam!? Are you there?” Joey's voice transmitted quietly from the phone still in my hand. “Yeah, I'm in the lamb with Dell, what's going on?” It was no use asking Wendell what was going on, he spoke rarely ever since his father, mother, and two sisters had been gunned down by a group of terrorists that had discovered the extremely dangerous American agent's real identity. “I was looking over a list of people on a hit list. I'm not sure yet why, but you're number fifty-two on it. As a government agent I have just technically betrayed the nation, as I am taking personal friendships into the field, but I'm not going to let you get knocked down by my men.” I sat frozen in shock. “Listen, Sam, I know this is big, but trust me. I'll take care of this. You'll be fine. I'm assigning Wendell to stay with you at all times and I'll be sending in someone else soon. They are listed as undercover on year long surveillance. To all others any more information unknown and highly classified. Only the Director or the President can see what that is, and they won't care. Agents go undercover all the time. Keep the HTC; I've secured it. Don't call anyone else with that phone without permission from me, Dell, or the other agent that will be with you in a few hours. I have to go attend a meeting, so I'll talk to you later. If you need anything, Dell's right next to you. Okay?” “Joey, I--” “Please, Sam, please, trust me. Please.” Joey was reliable. He had disappointed me few times, and those were merely girly teenage emotions that had triggered that disappointment, not Joey. “Okay, Joey. Thank- you. Go do what you need to.” “I'm sorry for all of this, how sudden it all is... but I can't do anything about it presently. Just listen to everything and anything Wendell tells you to do, he knows what he's doing and since you two have known each other for a couple decades, I thought you'd be most comfortable around him. But like I said, I have to go. I'll call back as soon as I'm done with this meeting in a few hours. Bye.” “Bye.” I single tear ran down my cheek. What's going to happen to me? The phone went dead.