I exhaled sharply, then slowly stood up and raised my hands above my head. I may be a badass, but even I can’t outrun a bullet. I could tell by the angle the gun was placed against my head that I was a little taller than whoever had me sneaked up on me. I also knew my oppressor was female; the voice had been hushed, but it was definitely feminine. I could also smell perfume…It smelled expensive.
“Don’t you move. You move and I blow your head off. Who are you? What do you want?”
“That was two questions. Which do you want me to answer?” I responded.
“…Jared?” The pressure of the gun to my head lightened.
A small hand slowly spun me around until I was face to face with my twin sister. She gasped and threw her arms around my neck. She started sniffling; I think she was crying. I slowly brought my arms up and cradled my sister. We stood there, just holding each other, for what felt like hours. I wish it had lasted that long. My sister and I had never had an amazing relationship. She was always the good twin; the good child. I was the disappointment. But as I held my sister, I felt the unbreakable bond to my twin that everyone always says exists between siblings.
“I thought…I thought you were dead…The plane crash?” She stammered.
“Somehow, I lived through it. I didn’t think you’d want to see me, so I kept up the charade your husband arranged. I’ve been in Seattle with Raiden.”
“Charade? What do you mean? You think he tried…tried to..?
“Have me killed? Without a doubt.”
“But why? Were you blackmailing him?”
“Ha! Are you kidding me? Liv, you were the one who showed me I was a liability to him. Remember the file that Lena found? With all the dates and addresses? I told you I didn’t write them. I didn’t. Those were all jobs that I worked for Trystix, but the problem with it was that I never wrote anything down. Never. Somehow, he found a way to duplicate my handwriting and kept track of my comings and goings during the time I lived here. If I were gone, he wouldn’t have to answer for any of it. He could destroy it. He used it as an insurance policy to get rid of me and alienate me from you and Lena. He succeeded, except I didn’t die.”
“Jared…he’s still my husband…He’s still Lena’s father. He’s a good man.”
“Is it true he hits you?”
“Jared…he…” My sister turned her eyes to the floor and paled.
“Liv! Answer me. Does he hit you?”
“Only a few times, when he’s really angry. But he’s a good-”
“He’s not a good man! He’s an evil, arrogant, murderous son of a bitch!”
“You…you’re…wrong.” She started crying.
“Do you know he is waiting out this Red Rose virus? Did you know he won’t contribute to the research to cure it? Raiden’s out among the sick every damn day!”
“How can you trust Raiden so easily? How do you know he’s not just as evil?”
“Alex Ryder.”
“What? How do you know that name? He disappeared years ago.”
“When I was in prison, you wrote me a letter. You mentioned him. I know him. Rather well, actually. He goes by Micah Raiden now.”
“What?!?”
“I work for Alex Ryder. I just call him Raiden, as does the rest of the world. He wants you to come to Seattle.”
“I can’t! I have to stay with Lena…She…needs…me…” She looked down at the sleeping bundle of Lena in her blankets.
“Liv, Raiden can take care of you both. He has a huge complex where she could play. You’d be safe.”
“Jared, you don’t understand. I have to stay here. Here. With her.”
“What the hell do you mean? We can leave. Now. That’s why I am here. I want to take you home. Today. Now.”
“I can’t…Lena’s…Lena’s sick….Really sick.”
I stood there a moment, confused and frustrated. I looked into Liv’s eyes, then down at my niece. It was only then that I noticed how much Lena was sweating. I guess I rationalized it was because she was by the fire. She was pale, but I had mistaken that for her natural skin tone. She was shaking, but the flickering from the fireplace had disguised the motion. Her lips were chapped. I realized she hadn’t moved nor had she been awakened by anything that happened since I got here. She was comatose.
“No…Damn it! No!” I whispered harshly.
“Yes. She has it, Jared. I can’t leave her. She needs to stay here. Unless you have something better to treat her..?"
I didn’t respond. I sank to the floor. How could this have happened? She had been locked in the Tower, just like Liv. How could she have been exposed to the Red Rose Virus? Security kept almost everyone out of these upper floors. The only reason I could get up here was because I knew my way through the building better than almost anyone. There shouldn’t have ever been a chance for her to be exposed. The only people she ever saw were Liv and Trystix.
“How long?” I asked.
“Jared, we have the best doctors in the world working on a cure for Lena.”
“How long does she have left?”
“Jared, please…”
“HOW LONG, OLIVIA!?”
“She hasn’t started wilting, so at least a couple weeks.”
“Then we have to hurry.”
“J, I can’t leave her.”
“We’re not going to. I’d rather risk getting sick myself carrying her than let her die in this God-forsaken tower.”
“He’s a good father, Jared.”
“Does he hit her, too?”
“Jared…he just has a hard time with his temper…”
“That settles it. Get up. Get your things. We’re leaving.”
“Jar-”
“Now!”
Olivia flinched. Instantly, I regretted losing my cool. She said nothing, but walked over to a small dresser in the corner of the room. My eyes followed her, then I stooped down and cradled Lena in my arms. She stirred and murmured softly. It was like holding a small heater to my chest. I noticed bedding on a couch; looks like Liv had been sleeping down here instead of on the top floor with Trystix. Liv fidgeted with something in the corner, put something in her pocket, and shuffled back to stand next to me. She had started crying.
“Liv, I’m sorry. I just can’t let that monster hurt you anymore. Either of you. Raiden will take care of you.”
She didn’t answer; just nodded. She grabbed a few things from where Lena had lain and put them in her purse. I even saw the 9mm pistol she tried to hide. My angel sister had grown fangs. She hesitated a moment, then returned to stand beside me.
“What’s the plan, Jared?” she finally asked.
I had to think about it a moment. I needed any research information on Red Rose Fever for both Raiden and to help my niece. But I needed the records of my indiscretions from my old apartment almost as badly to find out how he set me up. Liv might have forgiven me, but I hadn’t forgiven Trystix for trying to kill me. The records were key to his cover-up. But I had to help Lena.
“I need to get in Trystix’s office, and then I get you out of here. Do you have access to his ‘war room?’
“Yes, but I’m not supposed to go in there. He barely lets Lena in there for his web-casts.”
“Fine. You’ll stay in the elevator and keep it open for me. I won’t be long.”
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Chapter 18
One thing I learned from working with Regan Trystix is that every good plan has three things; a motive, a destination, and a back-up plan. I had the first two in spades. But, as they say, the devil is in the details. I’ve always been good at finding justification for the things I’ve done. I have no problem burning a hole in the ozone if I feel the end justifies the means. Trystix, on the other hand, over-thought things. He would obsess over small and trivial things like the timing of streetlights and which phase the moon would be in. I had never had need for things like this. Then again, I had never tried to take out a political figure and convince his wife and daughter to leave their home either.
My motive was easy; payback. Vengeance. An eye for an eye. He tried to have me killed, so I naturally wanted to take him out. He was obviously corrupt; he needed to be put down. The world would be better without him. The world also would have been better without me, but it obviously wasn’t my time. Trystix wasn’t going to be the one to take me out, but I would be the reaper of his entire world. This was the first moment that realized I was probably going to kill Trystix. It didn’t bother me much. Raiden would be annoyed I didn’t tell him the plan had changed, but I didn’t really feel like answering a million questions right before I put my life on the line for him…It just didn’t seem that important to me.
My destination was Tryst Tower, then Seattle. I knew the layout of the Tower better than about anyone during my stay there, and, barring any additions that may have been added, I probably still did. I had spent a long time studying the blueprints Stu and Johnny had acquired for me. I knew most of the maintenance routes, though not as well as I wanted to. I had hoped to have time to physically be in the building before I made my move on Trystix. But I didn’t have that kind of time anymore. This had to be done today. End of story.
The back-up plan is always the X-factor. I’ve never been good at sticking to anything solid for one reason; nothing ever goes the way you plan it. I’m much better at winging it than most people, seeing as I have a lot more experience planning and executing things like this than most. I wasn’t worried; I would be in and out before anyone knew different. The only thing I could rely on was my instincts.
As I sped towards Tryst Tower, I started thinking about Lena. She’d be almost eight years old now…I had missed valuable years with my niece, valuable time feeling human. I would have given anything to have that time back. I wondered if she still had the hazel flecks in her eye. I wonder if she still looked like her mother and I more than Trystix. Though he was her father, I was sure she’d look more like me than him. Aside from that, I planned to remove him from the picture. Lena would be upset, but I’d make it up to her, once I got her and her mother back to Seattle.
The drive wasn’t long from the warehouse; only a few miles. You could see the Tower looming in the distance from the warehouse. I drove steadily towards it, feeling confident. Though I didn’t have a whole lot of time, I felt safe. I felt at peace. Probably the calm before the storm. I’ve never been much of an optimist, but I was ready. I wished that I had my small gun, although I’d never used it. I hadn’t even shot it since I bought it years ago. It probably wouldn’t do me much good anyway. This was about stealth, not force. I needed to get in, find my sister and niece, and hope for an opportunity at Trystix. I couldn’t force the last part. I could only take advantage of it if the opportunity presented itself. I was ready.
I followed the road around the back of the enormous building. There was a small maintenance entrance with a parking lot for employees. To enter, you needed a keycard. Lucky for me, Vic kept his ID in his work uniform. I slid it through the reader, waited for the buzz that signaled acceptance, and slowly rolled into the small parking lot. I wouldn’t need the motorcycle when I was leaving. It’s hard enough riding with one passenger, let alone two. I hoped Liv would have access to a vehicle. If it came to it, I would just boost one from the inner parking structure. No big deal.
The parking lot was empty, save for two vehicles. Probably the night shift security team. If I remembered right, the shift change was around ten o’clock. They’d definitely report a suspicious motorcycle if they saw one, even at the end of their shift. That gave me an hour. That wasn’t even close to what I had planned on. I had been hoping for at least six hours to get the job done. I was going to have to work fast.
Trystix’s office was on the top floor. I couldn’t take the main elevator without greatly risking being seen before I wanted to be. I would have to take the service elevator, known to the security as “the Turtle.” As you can imagine, it was almost twice as slow as the main lift. It would pause at each floor for a count of five; no one really knew why. That meant to get to the top floor, the hundred-fiftieth for the record, would take me almost thirteen minutes. Thirteen up, and thirteen down. Twenty-six minutes wasted on a damn elevator. That gave me little more than a half-hour to get the files from Trystix’s office, find my sister, and escape the tower. I suppose I could add a minute or two to punch out Trystix.
I quietly slid into the building, checking around each corner as I made my way to the Turtle. The corridor was very plain, mostly white and gray. Trystix was to cheap to ever have the place properly lit, so there were a lot of shadows throughout the hallways. It was quite a depressing place.
The Turtle also required keycard, so I kept it in my hand as I moved silently through the dark employee’s entranceway. I knew my way through this area better than most. I had spent a lot of time in these dimly lit halls when I was working for Trystix. I had used this very same route each time I returned from solving Trystix’s problems. I rounded the last corner and swore. I arrived by the lift just in time to see the doors start opening. I dove back around the corner into the shadows as the night shift security team stepped out of the elevator. They must have gotten off early. Damn.
“Trystix is really upset today, man. Did you hear the way he was screaming at his bitch?” one said.
“What’d she do this time? I swear he’s gonna kill her one day.” the other responded.
“No kidding. I think if she kept her yap shut he wouldn’t have to keep knocking her around. If she doesn’t behave she can’t be on TV.”
“I know! You’d think she’d be smarter than that. I bet he only keeps her around for that dynamite body of hers.”
Needless to say, I’d heard enough. I don’t know if I was more upset that Trystix had hit Liv or that these two men thought it was funny. Either way, I was irate. Reason flew out the window, and a cold malice replaced it. I stayed in the shadows, mostly concealed. As the first walked around the corner, the smaller of the two, I stuck my foot out and tripped him. He yelped as he hit the cold tile floor. His partner tried to run to the alarm on the wall back the way he’d come by the Turtle. I whipped around the corner and dove at his legs. He went down. He crashed headlong into the stone wall with a sickening thud. He didn’t move after that.
The first guard, regaining his senses, had started back to his feet. Before he could regain his balance, I was on him. We wrestled for a moment or two. I was lucky; I had a good thirty pounds on him. I eventually took him to the floor and slammed his head to the floor. It knocked him out cold. I took his gun; you never know when you’ll need one during a tense moment. Better yet, it was fully loaded.
I couldn’t have bodies cluttering up the hall, so I dragged the unconscious guard into a janitor’s closet. I tied him up with an extension cord and put tape over his mouth. His buddy wasn’t going to be so easy to hide. He hadn’t moved since he hit the wall. There was blood on the wall and on the floor where he lay. I took off his shirt and tried to mop it up. Contrary to popular belief, shirts are not the most absorbent things in the world. I more or less just spread his blood across the floor. I swore again and dragged his body into the closet with his partner. I’d have to move even faster now.
I walked back to the Turtle and pushed the call button. It didn’t dawn on me until I had been in the elevator and gone up twenty floors that I had just killed another human being. I hadn’t meant to; only to knock him out and keep him from pushing the panic button on the alarm system. Accident or not, I was officially a murderer. Great.
The Turtle kept climbing and climbing. I sat down on the floor in the elevator and waited. Minute by agonizing minute went by. I was losing time and I was losing it fast. I was behind schedule. I had to move faster. I had to speed things up. But the damn elevator stayed the same slow, painful speed. I stood up and started pacing. Then I got an idea; I didn’t need to take it all the way to Trystix’s office. I just needed to get high enough that I wasn’t in view of the main security feeds. I would get off on the one-hundred-twentieth floor and take the emergency stairs the rest of the way. It would be harder, and I’d be winded, but it might save me some time in the end.
Finally, after the longest eleven minutes of my life, the doors opened to a small room. There were no lights on, but a fire burned in a fireplace in the corner of the room. There was a little bundle in front of it. Something small, something not moving, something wrapped up tight. It looked almost like a pile of blankets. Everything in the world stood still as I slowly got off the elevator. The stairs were outside the small apartment, and down the hall past Olivia’s private library. I had no choice but to walk past the light of the fire.
I moved very swiftly yet quietly; I could move like a cool breeze when I needed to. I had found need to during my work with Trystix. People and dogs don’t usually like it when you burn their house to the ground. I kept my eyes on the heap of fabric, though it never moved. I made it around the light of the fireplace when I heard a small sigh. I froze in my tracks, and my eyes leapt to the heap on the floor. It moved. Something was under the blankets. I saw a wisp of dark hair and pale skin. My breath was caught in my throat. Lena. I knew I should move on and get the files first. I should talk to Liv. I should be on my way out in a matter of moments. But this was my niece. My humanity. I had to see her.
I sneaked back over to the pile of blankets. I crouched down next to her, and moved the top cover down just a little. My beautiful niece lay fast asleep not a foot away from me. I couldn’t believe how much she’d grown. She looked just like her mother did at eight years old. I could see a ghost of a smile on her lips, and she sighed again. It was a moment that will always be locked in my mind. I hovered there, frozen in time. I didn’t hear anything but the sound of my precious niece breathing. I didn’t care about anything else. Forget Trystix. Forget Raiden. This was all I needed.
As I sat motionless watching my niece, my guard went down. Every survival instinct faded. I became lost as I watched my sleeping niece. Normally, I would have heard someone approaching me from behind long before they were breathing down my neck, but I was distracted. I heard a small click, then felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of my head.
“Stand up. Get away from her. Now.”
My motive was easy; payback. Vengeance. An eye for an eye. He tried to have me killed, so I naturally wanted to take him out. He was obviously corrupt; he needed to be put down. The world would be better without him. The world also would have been better without me, but it obviously wasn’t my time. Trystix wasn’t going to be the one to take me out, but I would be the reaper of his entire world. This was the first moment that realized I was probably going to kill Trystix. It didn’t bother me much. Raiden would be annoyed I didn’t tell him the plan had changed, but I didn’t really feel like answering a million questions right before I put my life on the line for him…It just didn’t seem that important to me.
My destination was Tryst Tower, then Seattle. I knew the layout of the Tower better than about anyone during my stay there, and, barring any additions that may have been added, I probably still did. I had spent a long time studying the blueprints Stu and Johnny had acquired for me. I knew most of the maintenance routes, though not as well as I wanted to. I had hoped to have time to physically be in the building before I made my move on Trystix. But I didn’t have that kind of time anymore. This had to be done today. End of story.
The back-up plan is always the X-factor. I’ve never been good at sticking to anything solid for one reason; nothing ever goes the way you plan it. I’m much better at winging it than most people, seeing as I have a lot more experience planning and executing things like this than most. I wasn’t worried; I would be in and out before anyone knew different. The only thing I could rely on was my instincts.
As I sped towards Tryst Tower, I started thinking about Lena. She’d be almost eight years old now…I had missed valuable years with my niece, valuable time feeling human. I would have given anything to have that time back. I wondered if she still had the hazel flecks in her eye. I wonder if she still looked like her mother and I more than Trystix. Though he was her father, I was sure she’d look more like me than him. Aside from that, I planned to remove him from the picture. Lena would be upset, but I’d make it up to her, once I got her and her mother back to Seattle.
The drive wasn’t long from the warehouse; only a few miles. You could see the Tower looming in the distance from the warehouse. I drove steadily towards it, feeling confident. Though I didn’t have a whole lot of time, I felt safe. I felt at peace. Probably the calm before the storm. I’ve never been much of an optimist, but I was ready. I wished that I had my small gun, although I’d never used it. I hadn’t even shot it since I bought it years ago. It probably wouldn’t do me much good anyway. This was about stealth, not force. I needed to get in, find my sister and niece, and hope for an opportunity at Trystix. I couldn’t force the last part. I could only take advantage of it if the opportunity presented itself. I was ready.
I followed the road around the back of the enormous building. There was a small maintenance entrance with a parking lot for employees. To enter, you needed a keycard. Lucky for me, Vic kept his ID in his work uniform. I slid it through the reader, waited for the buzz that signaled acceptance, and slowly rolled into the small parking lot. I wouldn’t need the motorcycle when I was leaving. It’s hard enough riding with one passenger, let alone two. I hoped Liv would have access to a vehicle. If it came to it, I would just boost one from the inner parking structure. No big deal.
The parking lot was empty, save for two vehicles. Probably the night shift security team. If I remembered right, the shift change was around ten o’clock. They’d definitely report a suspicious motorcycle if they saw one, even at the end of their shift. That gave me an hour. That wasn’t even close to what I had planned on. I had been hoping for at least six hours to get the job done. I was going to have to work fast.
Trystix’s office was on the top floor. I couldn’t take the main elevator without greatly risking being seen before I wanted to be. I would have to take the service elevator, known to the security as “the Turtle.” As you can imagine, it was almost twice as slow as the main lift. It would pause at each floor for a count of five; no one really knew why. That meant to get to the top floor, the hundred-fiftieth for the record, would take me almost thirteen minutes. Thirteen up, and thirteen down. Twenty-six minutes wasted on a damn elevator. That gave me little more than a half-hour to get the files from Trystix’s office, find my sister, and escape the tower. I suppose I could add a minute or two to punch out Trystix.
I quietly slid into the building, checking around each corner as I made my way to the Turtle. The corridor was very plain, mostly white and gray. Trystix was to cheap to ever have the place properly lit, so there were a lot of shadows throughout the hallways. It was quite a depressing place.
The Turtle also required keycard, so I kept it in my hand as I moved silently through the dark employee’s entranceway. I knew my way through this area better than most. I had spent a lot of time in these dimly lit halls when I was working for Trystix. I had used this very same route each time I returned from solving Trystix’s problems. I rounded the last corner and swore. I arrived by the lift just in time to see the doors start opening. I dove back around the corner into the shadows as the night shift security team stepped out of the elevator. They must have gotten off early. Damn.
“Trystix is really upset today, man. Did you hear the way he was screaming at his bitch?” one said.
“What’d she do this time? I swear he’s gonna kill her one day.” the other responded.
“No kidding. I think if she kept her yap shut he wouldn’t have to keep knocking her around. If she doesn’t behave she can’t be on TV.”
“I know! You’d think she’d be smarter than that. I bet he only keeps her around for that dynamite body of hers.”
Needless to say, I’d heard enough. I don’t know if I was more upset that Trystix had hit Liv or that these two men thought it was funny. Either way, I was irate. Reason flew out the window, and a cold malice replaced it. I stayed in the shadows, mostly concealed. As the first walked around the corner, the smaller of the two, I stuck my foot out and tripped him. He yelped as he hit the cold tile floor. His partner tried to run to the alarm on the wall back the way he’d come by the Turtle. I whipped around the corner and dove at his legs. He went down. He crashed headlong into the stone wall with a sickening thud. He didn’t move after that.
The first guard, regaining his senses, had started back to his feet. Before he could regain his balance, I was on him. We wrestled for a moment or two. I was lucky; I had a good thirty pounds on him. I eventually took him to the floor and slammed his head to the floor. It knocked him out cold. I took his gun; you never know when you’ll need one during a tense moment. Better yet, it was fully loaded.
I couldn’t have bodies cluttering up the hall, so I dragged the unconscious guard into a janitor’s closet. I tied him up with an extension cord and put tape over his mouth. His buddy wasn’t going to be so easy to hide. He hadn’t moved since he hit the wall. There was blood on the wall and on the floor where he lay. I took off his shirt and tried to mop it up. Contrary to popular belief, shirts are not the most absorbent things in the world. I more or less just spread his blood across the floor. I swore again and dragged his body into the closet with his partner. I’d have to move even faster now.
I walked back to the Turtle and pushed the call button. It didn’t dawn on me until I had been in the elevator and gone up twenty floors that I had just killed another human being. I hadn’t meant to; only to knock him out and keep him from pushing the panic button on the alarm system. Accident or not, I was officially a murderer. Great.
The Turtle kept climbing and climbing. I sat down on the floor in the elevator and waited. Minute by agonizing minute went by. I was losing time and I was losing it fast. I was behind schedule. I had to move faster. I had to speed things up. But the damn elevator stayed the same slow, painful speed. I stood up and started pacing. Then I got an idea; I didn’t need to take it all the way to Trystix’s office. I just needed to get high enough that I wasn’t in view of the main security feeds. I would get off on the one-hundred-twentieth floor and take the emergency stairs the rest of the way. It would be harder, and I’d be winded, but it might save me some time in the end.
Finally, after the longest eleven minutes of my life, the doors opened to a small room. There were no lights on, but a fire burned in a fireplace in the corner of the room. There was a little bundle in front of it. Something small, something not moving, something wrapped up tight. It looked almost like a pile of blankets. Everything in the world stood still as I slowly got off the elevator. The stairs were outside the small apartment, and down the hall past Olivia’s private library. I had no choice but to walk past the light of the fire.
I moved very swiftly yet quietly; I could move like a cool breeze when I needed to. I had found need to during my work with Trystix. People and dogs don’t usually like it when you burn their house to the ground. I kept my eyes on the heap of fabric, though it never moved. I made it around the light of the fireplace when I heard a small sigh. I froze in my tracks, and my eyes leapt to the heap on the floor. It moved. Something was under the blankets. I saw a wisp of dark hair and pale skin. My breath was caught in my throat. Lena. I knew I should move on and get the files first. I should talk to Liv. I should be on my way out in a matter of moments. But this was my niece. My humanity. I had to see her.
I sneaked back over to the pile of blankets. I crouched down next to her, and moved the top cover down just a little. My beautiful niece lay fast asleep not a foot away from me. I couldn’t believe how much she’d grown. She looked just like her mother did at eight years old. I could see a ghost of a smile on her lips, and she sighed again. It was a moment that will always be locked in my mind. I hovered there, frozen in time. I didn’t hear anything but the sound of my precious niece breathing. I didn’t care about anything else. Forget Trystix. Forget Raiden. This was all I needed.
As I sat motionless watching my niece, my guard went down. Every survival instinct faded. I became lost as I watched my sleeping niece. Normally, I would have heard someone approaching me from behind long before they were breathing down my neck, but I was distracted. I heard a small click, then felt the barrel of a gun pressed into the back of my head.
“Stand up. Get away from her. Now.”
Chapter 17
You may have noticed that I have some slight problems controlling my temper. What happened next could only be described as a nuclear conniption fit.
“What? How the hell did that happen?” I screamed at Johnny, not waiting for his response as I pushed past him into the small home. If he answered, I ignored him.
The front room was an absolute mess. Furniture was overturned; shards of glass were strewn on the floor. I picked my way carefully through the chaos, trying to get to the couch where Stu’s body rested. I never should have left. I should have been a big boy and dealt with my nightmares like normal people…however they do it. I screamed in frustration as I saw the ligature marks around Stu’s neck. Vic must have used a cord or rope to kill my friend. This did not bode well for Vic. I would see to it personally that he paid a heavy price for his treachery. Granted, I did abduct him. But I didn’t kill him. Yet.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I know you and Stu had become pretty good friends over the last few weeks.” Johnny looked heartbroken.
“Did you see where he went?” I managed to get out through gritted teeth.
“Pretty sure he went east. My head was spinning from his right hook, but I’m pretty sure…”
“Give me your keys.”
“Jared…”
“Don’t screw with me! Give me your damn keys!” I screamed. He sighed and reached into his pocket. He tossed me the keys.
“Get out of town, Johnny. Things are gonna get bad. Really bad. Really, really, soon.” I said as I left.
“Jared, don’t do something you will regret.” He warned. He knew what I was thinking. But there was nothing that could stop me.
I peeled out as I sped down the east road. Johnny had a little red Volkswagen that was probably as old as me, but I didn’t need a brand new car for what I had in mind. All of the logic in the world couldn’t convince me to turn back now and cut my losses. Every primal instinct inside of me had kicked in. I would find Vic. I had to find Vic. Not because it was the smart thing to do so my cover wasn’t blown, but because he had killed someone I had begun to consider family. In the animal kingdom, each protects his own. And at our core, each of us are still one thing; animals. No amount of emotion, money, fancy cars, or number of girlfriends could ever change it. In the end, we’re all just animals. And I was a great white shark who just sensed blood in the water. In the end, I was the predator. And Vic was about to become my prey.
It occurred to me that I didn’t ask Johnny how long it had been since Vic left. To be honest, it didn’t matter much to me. All that mattered was catching him. I knew the general area he lived in, but I didn’t know exactly where. The fastest way on foot would be the road I was currently driving on. I couldn’t imagine Vic being much of a track star, so I knew I had to be gaining on him.
Guilt settled in again as I sped down the rarely busy street. I never should have left. Then again, had I stayed in bed, Vic could have killed me too. But I still felt responsible for Stu’s death. I felt horrible. I felt vulnerable. There had been a breach in the security of all my planning, and the results had already been disastrous. I had to patch the breach. I had to fix this, but I knew that I could never bring Stu back. That brought back the anger. I sped up.
The streets were mostly empty, save a few people walking on the sidewalks. I would definitely be able to see someone running as fast as they could in the opposite direction. I flew down the road like a bat out of hell. I was so lost inside my own head I didn’t notice the police car behind me until he turned on his siren. I knew I was speeding, but I hadn’t realized I was going about forty over the limit. This was about to get complicated. I pulled over slowly. There wasn’t much chance of winning a high-speed chase with a police cruiser in the Volkswagen. But I was sure I was gaining on Vic, and I knew I couldn’t afford the wasted time of getting a ticket. For Hell’s sake I didn’t even have an Illinois license.
It was then that I noticed something odd; the cop had someone riding in the front seat of his car. Someone who looked nervous. Someone who was breathing really hard. Someone who looked very familiar. Vic. Interesting turn of events.
The cop climbed out of the car, walking the way all cops do when they know they get to give a big ticket. I don’t know why, but they really seem to enjoy giving the big ones. I had received my share from practicing my art of arson. I could see the gun at his hip, unbuttoned in its holster. He didn’t seem too concerned with the unassuming VW in front of him. But he didn’t know he had just pulled over a shark. A shark who smelled blood. This was going to be the day that I got a very large bounty put on my head. This was also the day a dear friend of mine died, and his assailant was no more than thirty feet behind me, completely unaware of me. This was definitely going to bite me in the ass, but I could feel Stu’s blood screaming at me from the little house I had left miles behind. Vengeance was coming.
As the officer sauntered over, I counted to ten. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe I should forget it, eat the ticket, and follow the cop to wherever Vic wanted to go. Logic and reason pointed that way, but my anger was beyond logic. Self-control had left about an hour ago, and the only thing I could think of was Stu. I should have been there. But I wasn’t. Now he was dead. At the count of three I was ready to drop my anger. By six, I wanted blood again. It didn’t take me much longer to slowly start to open the door, without opening it too far. Just enough so I could kick it into that smug bastard cop’s face when he got close enough.
He seemed to sense something was wrong, as he slowed his gait. I held still, even held my breath, hoping he would just consider it nerves or paranoia. He hesitated, looking back at the squad car. I figured he was probably thinking about calling for backup. I sighed and tipped my head into the hand not holding the door. I tried as hard as I could to feign submission, ready to accept my fine like a man. It worked, to my amazement. I heard his shoes scuff the asphalt as he resumed his walk. I could see the light from his flashlight now. He’d be here in about five more steps. Four, three, two, one…He tapped on the window, shining his light in my face. I slowly started unrolling the window. He started bending down to look into the car. He didn’t get a good look.
As soon as I knew he couldn’t react in time, I opened the door as fast as I could. I threw my shoulder into the door for added impact. The officer went sprawling. I caught him square in the chest, knocking him and his stupid light to the ground. I bounded out of the car and was on top of the officer almost before he hit the ground. I punched him in the jaw twice, slid the gun from the holster, and took off towards his car. I’m guessing here, but I don’t think cops normally leave their cars running. This cop was apparently an idiot. All the better for me. I got to the car in time to see Vic try to dive across the front seat and try to lock the door. He looked petrified. And he should be. I got the door open just in time.
“Well hey there, Vic. Remember me?” I asked. He shriveled back to his seat.
“Please…I don’t know you…I didn‘t do anything to you…Don’t hurt me! What do you want?” He pleaded.
“Keep your mouth shut!” I climbed in the car, pointed the gun in his face, shifted into drive, and peeled out down the road. The cop was still down.
Vic was white as a ghost as I floored it down the empty streets. He didn’t have the guts to try anything at high-speed, so I took the gun out of his face. I whipped around the corner and headed towards the Chicago River. When I lived in Chicago, I used to spend a lot of time looking over the river, which was only a five minute drive from Tryst Tower. That was the other reason I headed towards this particular river. I had some plans that had just jumped up a few days on the calendar. Vic was panicking now. He probably kept begging to be let go, but I couldn’t hear him. I was lost in a blood rage. Vic was mine, and his fate would soon be with the fishes. Trystix would be next. I smiled gravely, and flipped on the siren. Might as well live it up while I had the opportunity.
The river was soon in sight. I found a semi-secluded area and slammed on the breaks. For some reason, traffic was slow in this part of town in the mornings. I never really found out why.
“Get out. I want you to walk to the edge of the river. If you run, I’ll put a bullet in your head so fast you’ll be dead before anyone hears the gun. Move.” I said.
Vic nervously shuffled out of the car, keeping his head down, looking rather pathetic. I could respect that. A man who had now been kidnapped twice by the same man probably knew he was at my mercy. I watched him a moment, then got out of the squad car. The police probably had some form of GPS, so I had to make this quick.
“I need your uniform, Vicky. Take it off.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I said so, and I’m the one with the gun.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Probably. But for now, I need you to take off your uniform.”
“If you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I?” Ok. He needed some motivation.
“Because I can keep you alive a very, very, long time if you don’t.”
He moved quickly, stripping down to a dirty white tank top and boxers that looked like a shower curtain. He folded his uniform carefully, then placed it on the hood of the car.
“Thank you. Now it’s your turn, Vic. Turn around and walk to the edge of the river.”
“Wha-…Please! Don’t kill me!” He slowly turned and walked to the water.
I’ll be honest. I really, REALLY, wanted to blow his brains out. But for some reason, be it his pathetic countenance or perhaps a small case of humanity in myself, I decided not to. But I couldn’t let him know that. Not yet. I quietly released the magazine into my hand and slipped it into my pocket. I checked the safety, making sure it was on. I had use for the gun, just not the usual one. I took my time getting over to where Vic stood, shaking like a leaf, looking out over the water.
“Vic. You killed one of my friends. You punched out another one. Give me one reason I shouldn’t blow your head off. It better be a damn good one. Consider me your judge, jury, but mostly an executioner.”
“I…I…I have a family.”
“Don’t lie to me! I’ve been following you for a month! DO NOT TEST ME!” I yelled as I kicked the back of his left knee. He buckled and slammed to the ground.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He was crying now. How pathetic.
“Get up. This is your last chance. Tell me why this world will be better with you in it.”
“I…I don’t know. I’m a security guard. I’m not important. I just keep Mr. Trystix safe. That’s all. He needs protection. I could…c-c-could protect…you?”
I stared at him for what must have been an eternity in his mind. It was a good minute at least. I scoffed in disgust. He unraveled and shrank back to the dirt. I guess he took my small expression as a bad sign. Fool.
“GET UP!” I yelled.
“Just do it! Just shoot me! I can’t take this anymore. Do it!” He stayed down in the fetal position.
“I’m not going to kill you, idiot!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone stop crying so fast. He looked up at me with confusion. Nonetheless, he slowly stood.
“That cop is going to be looking for me. Do you know what that means, Vicky?” He shook his head. “It means all traces of me have to be gone. That means this gun, my clothes, the car, and, most importantly, you…”
“But you said you weren’t going to kill me!” He looked nervous again.
“I’m not going to.” I said, then cracked him in the side of the head with the gun. He was out cold.
I picked up his limp carcass and threw him in the backseat of the squad car. I went to the front of the car and changed into his outfit. A little tight, but it fit all right. My old clothes had to go, so I threw them into the icy depths of the Chicago River. I couldn’t guarantee they would stay there forever; hopefully just long enough for me to take care of Trystix and escape the Windy City. Now I had to take care of the car and my old buddy Vic.
I climbed into the driver seat and started the car. I put it in gear and peeled out of the small enclave. There isn’t a whole lot of places you can ditch a cop car inconspicuously, so I decided I’d have to improvise. I had to get out of view of the public eye, but I still needed to be close enough to the city so as to be able to get to Tryst Tower quickly. I stuck mainly to the side streets that are rarely used before the workday begins, thinking quickly and driving faster. Soon, I was driving through the old industrial district that I had scared people in to selling to Trystix a few years prior. I found the building I was looking for; an old warehouse Trystix used for his personal collection of classic cars. It was extremely large, yet kind of withdrawn from the rest of the buildings. It fit his arrogance and selfishness perfectly. Arrogance and pride would contribute to his downfall.
There was no gate, but the security system to get inside the warehouse was top of the line. I know; I picked it out. I got out of the car and walked to the door. It wasn’t locked with a key; the only way in was to know the right combination of six numbers. He couldn’t think of a good one, so I suggested his daughter’s birthday. Bingo. I slid open the big door and quickly opened up the big gate. I jumped back in the car, and drove inside.
The warehouse was gigantic. Corvettes, GTOs, Mustangs, BMWs, Lamborghinis, and motorcycles of all makes and models were parked in staggered lines along the inner floor. The upper portion of the building was filled to the brim with bookshelves. Honestly, it looked like Trystix had a library up there. I’d never spent much time up there. I was a little more concerned with the cars and motorcycles. You’d think with a collection of books that big or all those gorgeous cars Trystix might spend a lot of time here. Truthfully, I doubt he’d been here in years. Dust covered everything. This was the perfect place to abandon the squad car. The best part was you needed the code to get in and out. Vic wouldn’t have that. He’d be here a while after I’m gone. I felt fine with that; he could eat rats if he had to.
I climbed out of the car and moved to the back seat. Vic was still out cold. Might as well let him sleep. He could figure out the rest. I shut the door and had a good laugh at the thought of Vic trying to get out of the cop car. The beauty of those cars is they are locked from outside of the car. He’d have to kick out a window or break through the cage separating the front from the back. Good luck, Vic.
I said my goodbyes, shut the door, and made my way towards the entrance. I wasn’t leaving yet; that’s where the motorcycles were. I picked out a bright red Harley and opened the saddlebag. Trystix always kept the keys there. I started it up, revved the engine a few times, and slowly wheeled out into the small lot in the front of the building. I stopped and took one last look at the massive collection of classics, blemished only by an older police car. I half-smiled, disgusted by the blatant arrogance of one man. I slammed the door shut. Soon I’d shove his arrogance down his throat.
“What? How the hell did that happen?” I screamed at Johnny, not waiting for his response as I pushed past him into the small home. If he answered, I ignored him.
The front room was an absolute mess. Furniture was overturned; shards of glass were strewn on the floor. I picked my way carefully through the chaos, trying to get to the couch where Stu’s body rested. I never should have left. I should have been a big boy and dealt with my nightmares like normal people…however they do it. I screamed in frustration as I saw the ligature marks around Stu’s neck. Vic must have used a cord or rope to kill my friend. This did not bode well for Vic. I would see to it personally that he paid a heavy price for his treachery. Granted, I did abduct him. But I didn’t kill him. Yet.
“I’m sorry, Jared. I know you and Stu had become pretty good friends over the last few weeks.” Johnny looked heartbroken.
“Did you see where he went?” I managed to get out through gritted teeth.
“Pretty sure he went east. My head was spinning from his right hook, but I’m pretty sure…”
“Give me your keys.”
“Jared…”
“Don’t screw with me! Give me your damn keys!” I screamed. He sighed and reached into his pocket. He tossed me the keys.
“Get out of town, Johnny. Things are gonna get bad. Really bad. Really, really, soon.” I said as I left.
“Jared, don’t do something you will regret.” He warned. He knew what I was thinking. But there was nothing that could stop me.
I peeled out as I sped down the east road. Johnny had a little red Volkswagen that was probably as old as me, but I didn’t need a brand new car for what I had in mind. All of the logic in the world couldn’t convince me to turn back now and cut my losses. Every primal instinct inside of me had kicked in. I would find Vic. I had to find Vic. Not because it was the smart thing to do so my cover wasn’t blown, but because he had killed someone I had begun to consider family. In the animal kingdom, each protects his own. And at our core, each of us are still one thing; animals. No amount of emotion, money, fancy cars, or number of girlfriends could ever change it. In the end, we’re all just animals. And I was a great white shark who just sensed blood in the water. In the end, I was the predator. And Vic was about to become my prey.
It occurred to me that I didn’t ask Johnny how long it had been since Vic left. To be honest, it didn’t matter much to me. All that mattered was catching him. I knew the general area he lived in, but I didn’t know exactly where. The fastest way on foot would be the road I was currently driving on. I couldn’t imagine Vic being much of a track star, so I knew I had to be gaining on him.
Guilt settled in again as I sped down the rarely busy street. I never should have left. Then again, had I stayed in bed, Vic could have killed me too. But I still felt responsible for Stu’s death. I felt horrible. I felt vulnerable. There had been a breach in the security of all my planning, and the results had already been disastrous. I had to patch the breach. I had to fix this, but I knew that I could never bring Stu back. That brought back the anger. I sped up.
The streets were mostly empty, save a few people walking on the sidewalks. I would definitely be able to see someone running as fast as they could in the opposite direction. I flew down the road like a bat out of hell. I was so lost inside my own head I didn’t notice the police car behind me until he turned on his siren. I knew I was speeding, but I hadn’t realized I was going about forty over the limit. This was about to get complicated. I pulled over slowly. There wasn’t much chance of winning a high-speed chase with a police cruiser in the Volkswagen. But I was sure I was gaining on Vic, and I knew I couldn’t afford the wasted time of getting a ticket. For Hell’s sake I didn’t even have an Illinois license.
It was then that I noticed something odd; the cop had someone riding in the front seat of his car. Someone who looked nervous. Someone who was breathing really hard. Someone who looked very familiar. Vic. Interesting turn of events.
The cop climbed out of the car, walking the way all cops do when they know they get to give a big ticket. I don’t know why, but they really seem to enjoy giving the big ones. I had received my share from practicing my art of arson. I could see the gun at his hip, unbuttoned in its holster. He didn’t seem too concerned with the unassuming VW in front of him. But he didn’t know he had just pulled over a shark. A shark who smelled blood. This was going to be the day that I got a very large bounty put on my head. This was also the day a dear friend of mine died, and his assailant was no more than thirty feet behind me, completely unaware of me. This was definitely going to bite me in the ass, but I could feel Stu’s blood screaming at me from the little house I had left miles behind. Vengeance was coming.
As the officer sauntered over, I counted to ten. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. Maybe I should forget it, eat the ticket, and follow the cop to wherever Vic wanted to go. Logic and reason pointed that way, but my anger was beyond logic. Self-control had left about an hour ago, and the only thing I could think of was Stu. I should have been there. But I wasn’t. Now he was dead. At the count of three I was ready to drop my anger. By six, I wanted blood again. It didn’t take me much longer to slowly start to open the door, without opening it too far. Just enough so I could kick it into that smug bastard cop’s face when he got close enough.
He seemed to sense something was wrong, as he slowed his gait. I held still, even held my breath, hoping he would just consider it nerves or paranoia. He hesitated, looking back at the squad car. I figured he was probably thinking about calling for backup. I sighed and tipped my head into the hand not holding the door. I tried as hard as I could to feign submission, ready to accept my fine like a man. It worked, to my amazement. I heard his shoes scuff the asphalt as he resumed his walk. I could see the light from his flashlight now. He’d be here in about five more steps. Four, three, two, one…He tapped on the window, shining his light in my face. I slowly started unrolling the window. He started bending down to look into the car. He didn’t get a good look.
As soon as I knew he couldn’t react in time, I opened the door as fast as I could. I threw my shoulder into the door for added impact. The officer went sprawling. I caught him square in the chest, knocking him and his stupid light to the ground. I bounded out of the car and was on top of the officer almost before he hit the ground. I punched him in the jaw twice, slid the gun from the holster, and took off towards his car. I’m guessing here, but I don’t think cops normally leave their cars running. This cop was apparently an idiot. All the better for me. I got to the car in time to see Vic try to dive across the front seat and try to lock the door. He looked petrified. And he should be. I got the door open just in time.
“Well hey there, Vic. Remember me?” I asked. He shriveled back to his seat.
“Please…I don’t know you…I didn‘t do anything to you…Don’t hurt me! What do you want?” He pleaded.
“Keep your mouth shut!” I climbed in the car, pointed the gun in his face, shifted into drive, and peeled out down the road. The cop was still down.
Vic was white as a ghost as I floored it down the empty streets. He didn’t have the guts to try anything at high-speed, so I took the gun out of his face. I whipped around the corner and headed towards the Chicago River. When I lived in Chicago, I used to spend a lot of time looking over the river, which was only a five minute drive from Tryst Tower. That was the other reason I headed towards this particular river. I had some plans that had just jumped up a few days on the calendar. Vic was panicking now. He probably kept begging to be let go, but I couldn’t hear him. I was lost in a blood rage. Vic was mine, and his fate would soon be with the fishes. Trystix would be next. I smiled gravely, and flipped on the siren. Might as well live it up while I had the opportunity.
The river was soon in sight. I found a semi-secluded area and slammed on the breaks. For some reason, traffic was slow in this part of town in the mornings. I never really found out why.
“Get out. I want you to walk to the edge of the river. If you run, I’ll put a bullet in your head so fast you’ll be dead before anyone hears the gun. Move.” I said.
Vic nervously shuffled out of the car, keeping his head down, looking rather pathetic. I could respect that. A man who had now been kidnapped twice by the same man probably knew he was at my mercy. I watched him a moment, then got out of the squad car. The police probably had some form of GPS, so I had to make this quick.
“I need your uniform, Vicky. Take it off.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I said so, and I’m the one with the gun.”
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Probably. But for now, I need you to take off your uniform.”
“If you’re going to kill me anyway, why should I?” Ok. He needed some motivation.
“Because I can keep you alive a very, very, long time if you don’t.”
He moved quickly, stripping down to a dirty white tank top and boxers that looked like a shower curtain. He folded his uniform carefully, then placed it on the hood of the car.
“Thank you. Now it’s your turn, Vic. Turn around and walk to the edge of the river.”
“Wha-…Please! Don’t kill me!” He slowly turned and walked to the water.
I’ll be honest. I really, REALLY, wanted to blow his brains out. But for some reason, be it his pathetic countenance or perhaps a small case of humanity in myself, I decided not to. But I couldn’t let him know that. Not yet. I quietly released the magazine into my hand and slipped it into my pocket. I checked the safety, making sure it was on. I had use for the gun, just not the usual one. I took my time getting over to where Vic stood, shaking like a leaf, looking out over the water.
“Vic. You killed one of my friends. You punched out another one. Give me one reason I shouldn’t blow your head off. It better be a damn good one. Consider me your judge, jury, but mostly an executioner.”
“I…I…I have a family.”
“Don’t lie to me! I’ve been following you for a month! DO NOT TEST ME!” I yelled as I kicked the back of his left knee. He buckled and slammed to the ground.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He was crying now. How pathetic.
“Get up. This is your last chance. Tell me why this world will be better with you in it.”
“I…I don’t know. I’m a security guard. I’m not important. I just keep Mr. Trystix safe. That’s all. He needs protection. I could…c-c-could protect…you?”
I stared at him for what must have been an eternity in his mind. It was a good minute at least. I scoffed in disgust. He unraveled and shrank back to the dirt. I guess he took my small expression as a bad sign. Fool.
“GET UP!” I yelled.
“Just do it! Just shoot me! I can’t take this anymore. Do it!” He stayed down in the fetal position.
“I’m not going to kill you, idiot!”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone stop crying so fast. He looked up at me with confusion. Nonetheless, he slowly stood.
“That cop is going to be looking for me. Do you know what that means, Vicky?” He shook his head. “It means all traces of me have to be gone. That means this gun, my clothes, the car, and, most importantly, you…”
“But you said you weren’t going to kill me!” He looked nervous again.
“I’m not going to.” I said, then cracked him in the side of the head with the gun. He was out cold.
I picked up his limp carcass and threw him in the backseat of the squad car. I went to the front of the car and changed into his outfit. A little tight, but it fit all right. My old clothes had to go, so I threw them into the icy depths of the Chicago River. I couldn’t guarantee they would stay there forever; hopefully just long enough for me to take care of Trystix and escape the Windy City. Now I had to take care of the car and my old buddy Vic.
I climbed into the driver seat and started the car. I put it in gear and peeled out of the small enclave. There isn’t a whole lot of places you can ditch a cop car inconspicuously, so I decided I’d have to improvise. I had to get out of view of the public eye, but I still needed to be close enough to the city so as to be able to get to Tryst Tower quickly. I stuck mainly to the side streets that are rarely used before the workday begins, thinking quickly and driving faster. Soon, I was driving through the old industrial district that I had scared people in to selling to Trystix a few years prior. I found the building I was looking for; an old warehouse Trystix used for his personal collection of classic cars. It was extremely large, yet kind of withdrawn from the rest of the buildings. It fit his arrogance and selfishness perfectly. Arrogance and pride would contribute to his downfall.
There was no gate, but the security system to get inside the warehouse was top of the line. I know; I picked it out. I got out of the car and walked to the door. It wasn’t locked with a key; the only way in was to know the right combination of six numbers. He couldn’t think of a good one, so I suggested his daughter’s birthday. Bingo. I slid open the big door and quickly opened up the big gate. I jumped back in the car, and drove inside.
The warehouse was gigantic. Corvettes, GTOs, Mustangs, BMWs, Lamborghinis, and motorcycles of all makes and models were parked in staggered lines along the inner floor. The upper portion of the building was filled to the brim with bookshelves. Honestly, it looked like Trystix had a library up there. I’d never spent much time up there. I was a little more concerned with the cars and motorcycles. You’d think with a collection of books that big or all those gorgeous cars Trystix might spend a lot of time here. Truthfully, I doubt he’d been here in years. Dust covered everything. This was the perfect place to abandon the squad car. The best part was you needed the code to get in and out. Vic wouldn’t have that. He’d be here a while after I’m gone. I felt fine with that; he could eat rats if he had to.
I climbed out of the car and moved to the back seat. Vic was still out cold. Might as well let him sleep. He could figure out the rest. I shut the door and had a good laugh at the thought of Vic trying to get out of the cop car. The beauty of those cars is they are locked from outside of the car. He’d have to kick out a window or break through the cage separating the front from the back. Good luck, Vic.
I said my goodbyes, shut the door, and made my way towards the entrance. I wasn’t leaving yet; that’s where the motorcycles were. I picked out a bright red Harley and opened the saddlebag. Trystix always kept the keys there. I started it up, revved the engine a few times, and slowly wheeled out into the small lot in the front of the building. I stopped and took one last look at the massive collection of classics, blemished only by an older police car. I half-smiled, disgusted by the blatant arrogance of one man. I slammed the door shut. Soon I’d shove his arrogance down his throat.
Chapter 16
Stu was furious. After mumbling something about a “security breach,” he turned a shade of purple and couldn’t get out a single intelligible objection. He was incensed even further when I made a smart comment about his looking like a grape. I figured he’d be mad, but there really wasn’t any other option. Vic had to be contained; he was a loose cannon. I had nowhere else I could take him, and Stu knew that. I told him we’d move up the plan to the end of that week, hoping that four days would be enough time to get ready. I didn’t want it that way, but like I said, we had no other option.
Stu and I put Vic in a chair and tied him up. Vic didn’t even make a peep. Somehow, he went from unconscious to asleep on the drive over. We found a fifth of vodka in one of his pockets, so we figured he probably would sneak a drink from time to time while he was working. That didn’t surprise me much, and Stu looked like he needed a drink anyway. I tossed him the little bottle and he smiled. Drinking was something Stu was good at. We left Vic in the bedroom I was sleeping in and went to the living room to finish our plans.
I called Johnny over to hammer out some details. The big problem in front of us was the weekly press conference on Saturday night. I’d have to be in the building before the camera crews, and find a place to hide until late into the night. Then, I needed a solid escape route after I did what I came to do. Lastly, I would need some way to convince my sister to leave Chicago. That was definitely the trickiest piece of the puzzle. Johnny thought I should drug her somehow. I was convinced that I could persuade her to leave. Stu agreed and disagreed with both of us. That makes no sense, but you have to know Stu. He had a way of putting things that felt supportive and destructive at the same time. We adjourned and called it a night.
Sleep is a funny thing. Sometimes it feels like you could sleep until the end of time. Sometimes you wake up even more tired than when you went to bed. This night was one of the latter. My dreams are often shadowy and dark; this one was full of panic and flames. I couldn’t tell you what I was dreaming about, but it must have been terrifying. I woke with a gasp, sweating and panting. It felt like my blood was gasoline, and my dreams were the match. My whole body felt consumed in a violent and pervasive heat. I was shaking; trembling from some unknown force. I couldn’t shake off the dream, even though I couldn’t remember it. I needed some air. I got up, put on my shoes, and left out the front door.
I walked for what felt like miles. I kept going, despite the fact the sun would be up in an hour or two. I didn’t think much of it. I spent my time inside my head, trying to figure out what my dream was about. It had occurred to me that I don’t dream often, but they are usually pretty vivid when I do. I talked to therapists growing up about them, but they just wanted to put me on pills. My mother insisted I take them, for her. I pretended to, for her sake, but spit them out when she wasn’t looking. I started ignoring my dreams, started pretending I didn’t have them. Eventually, I forgot about them. Stopped having them even. At least to the point that I didn’t remember enough of them. But this dream, on this night, was different. It felt different. It made me sick to think about, and sicker to ignore.
Then it hit me; I’m an addict. I have a sickness. A devil on my shoulder. And it had been a long, long time since I had paid it any mind. I smiled to myself when I realized how simple the problem was. I was going through withdrawals. I was no better than the junkies on the corner, dying for a fix of some pill or drug. The only difference between them and myself was the drug of choice. They need their cocaine or alcohol fix; I needed a small inferno.
I didn’t have any of my gear with me; just the desire. I looked around for an easy target. This would be as good a chance as any to scratch the itch. I found a quiet alley, with a garbage can fireplace still burning. I looked around for anyone who might be in the wrong place at the right time. I don’t care for accidental deaths. I don’t need another on my conscience. I saw a dumpster, just a few feet from the small fire. Perfect. The metal dumpsters are prime for small blazes. They contain the spread of fire well, and often contain very flammable materials inside. You wouldn’t believe how many times a dumpster in my old neighborhood would house my small masterpieces. My record for one dumpster was thirteen. I smiled at the memory.
I walked towards the garbage can, slowly at first. My need began to burn even hotter. I could barely think. I was aching for it. The gasoline in my blood began to burn again; hotter and faster than before. I almost started running. I got to the makeshift fireplace, lifted it, and dumped the fiery contents into the dumpster. Anticipation ripped through my body. I was dying for it to ignite. Nothing happened. Imagine lighting the biggest firework on the Fourth of July, only to have it fizzle and burn out before any of the colors shoot into the air.
My glee disappeared. My anger ignited. I began breathing heavily. I started shaking. My blood was at fever pitch at this point. My inner demon was furious. I looked in the dumpster, which was smoking and smoldering, but not burning. I wanted flames and I got smoke. And a putrid dumpster smell. I guess I forgot about the smell of rotten food. I began pacing, looking for something to stoke the fire. I couldn’t handle failure at this point, not after I had already started. The need burned through me like a hot knife through butter. My mind was screaming. I started getting dizzy. My equilibrium shifted, and I lost my balance. I fell face first on the asphalt.
One could argue I had an epiphany at this point; I was a slave to arson. What a shocker. Addiction was rampant in my family, and it dawned on me how ironic my life was at this point. Here I was, free of alcohol and or foreign substances, realizing I was addicted something even worse. I smiled bitterly as I rose from the asphalt. As I shook my head, trying to regain control of my senses, another smell hit me. A familiar, intoxicating scent. Lighter fluid.
During my plunge to the ground, I had knocked over a brown paper bag. In that bag was a small bottle of instant ecstasy. Alcohol. Not the drinking kind. The extra-flammable kind. I had knocked it over just enough to crack the lid, thereby leaking a bit out of the bottle. Talk about irony. My demon retook control of me, and threw the bag into the dumpster. The rush of flame was instantaneous. Satisfaction. I smiled as I left the alley to watch from a safe distance. I didn’t need to suffocate in smoke to appreciate my work. I took a sharp left out of the alley, looping around a cross-street and coming back almost a block away. The smoke streamed into the sky. People had started noticing the fire, but no one dared get too close. The fire trucks got there fairly fast, but I knew they wouldn’t bother saving the dumpster unless the fire threatened to spread to the buildings surrounding it. Even still, they put it out far too soon for me.
I walked home as the sun began to rise, feeling guilty. Not guilty. Ashamed. I had completely lost control of myself. I had given up my freedom to my addiction. And right when I had the opportunity to get up and walk away, I found the lighter fluid and lost myself again. Some epiphany. Feeling ashamed, I walked back to Stu’s filled with self-loathing. I was so lost in myself, I didn’t see Johnny until I was almost to the doorstep.
“We have a problem, Jared.” Johnny said. Not only did he scare me half to death, but he said it in such a way that I felt a chill go up my spine. Then I noticed the black eye he was sporting.
“Where’s Stu?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Vic’s gone. He somehow got out of the ropes. I came over to check on Stu; relieve him of his watch on Vic. I found Vic strangling him. I pulled him off and he clocked me. He was way too fast. When I came to I checked on Stu…He’s dead, Jared.”
Stu and I put Vic in a chair and tied him up. Vic didn’t even make a peep. Somehow, he went from unconscious to asleep on the drive over. We found a fifth of vodka in one of his pockets, so we figured he probably would sneak a drink from time to time while he was working. That didn’t surprise me much, and Stu looked like he needed a drink anyway. I tossed him the little bottle and he smiled. Drinking was something Stu was good at. We left Vic in the bedroom I was sleeping in and went to the living room to finish our plans.
I called Johnny over to hammer out some details. The big problem in front of us was the weekly press conference on Saturday night. I’d have to be in the building before the camera crews, and find a place to hide until late into the night. Then, I needed a solid escape route after I did what I came to do. Lastly, I would need some way to convince my sister to leave Chicago. That was definitely the trickiest piece of the puzzle. Johnny thought I should drug her somehow. I was convinced that I could persuade her to leave. Stu agreed and disagreed with both of us. That makes no sense, but you have to know Stu. He had a way of putting things that felt supportive and destructive at the same time. We adjourned and called it a night.
Sleep is a funny thing. Sometimes it feels like you could sleep until the end of time. Sometimes you wake up even more tired than when you went to bed. This night was one of the latter. My dreams are often shadowy and dark; this one was full of panic and flames. I couldn’t tell you what I was dreaming about, but it must have been terrifying. I woke with a gasp, sweating and panting. It felt like my blood was gasoline, and my dreams were the match. My whole body felt consumed in a violent and pervasive heat. I was shaking; trembling from some unknown force. I couldn’t shake off the dream, even though I couldn’t remember it. I needed some air. I got up, put on my shoes, and left out the front door.
I walked for what felt like miles. I kept going, despite the fact the sun would be up in an hour or two. I didn’t think much of it. I spent my time inside my head, trying to figure out what my dream was about. It had occurred to me that I don’t dream often, but they are usually pretty vivid when I do. I talked to therapists growing up about them, but they just wanted to put me on pills. My mother insisted I take them, for her. I pretended to, for her sake, but spit them out when she wasn’t looking. I started ignoring my dreams, started pretending I didn’t have them. Eventually, I forgot about them. Stopped having them even. At least to the point that I didn’t remember enough of them. But this dream, on this night, was different. It felt different. It made me sick to think about, and sicker to ignore.
Then it hit me; I’m an addict. I have a sickness. A devil on my shoulder. And it had been a long, long time since I had paid it any mind. I smiled to myself when I realized how simple the problem was. I was going through withdrawals. I was no better than the junkies on the corner, dying for a fix of some pill or drug. The only difference between them and myself was the drug of choice. They need their cocaine or alcohol fix; I needed a small inferno.
I didn’t have any of my gear with me; just the desire. I looked around for an easy target. This would be as good a chance as any to scratch the itch. I found a quiet alley, with a garbage can fireplace still burning. I looked around for anyone who might be in the wrong place at the right time. I don’t care for accidental deaths. I don’t need another on my conscience. I saw a dumpster, just a few feet from the small fire. Perfect. The metal dumpsters are prime for small blazes. They contain the spread of fire well, and often contain very flammable materials inside. You wouldn’t believe how many times a dumpster in my old neighborhood would house my small masterpieces. My record for one dumpster was thirteen. I smiled at the memory.
I walked towards the garbage can, slowly at first. My need began to burn even hotter. I could barely think. I was aching for it. The gasoline in my blood began to burn again; hotter and faster than before. I almost started running. I got to the makeshift fireplace, lifted it, and dumped the fiery contents into the dumpster. Anticipation ripped through my body. I was dying for it to ignite. Nothing happened. Imagine lighting the biggest firework on the Fourth of July, only to have it fizzle and burn out before any of the colors shoot into the air.
My glee disappeared. My anger ignited. I began breathing heavily. I started shaking. My blood was at fever pitch at this point. My inner demon was furious. I looked in the dumpster, which was smoking and smoldering, but not burning. I wanted flames and I got smoke. And a putrid dumpster smell. I guess I forgot about the smell of rotten food. I began pacing, looking for something to stoke the fire. I couldn’t handle failure at this point, not after I had already started. The need burned through me like a hot knife through butter. My mind was screaming. I started getting dizzy. My equilibrium shifted, and I lost my balance. I fell face first on the asphalt.
One could argue I had an epiphany at this point; I was a slave to arson. What a shocker. Addiction was rampant in my family, and it dawned on me how ironic my life was at this point. Here I was, free of alcohol and or foreign substances, realizing I was addicted something even worse. I smiled bitterly as I rose from the asphalt. As I shook my head, trying to regain control of my senses, another smell hit me. A familiar, intoxicating scent. Lighter fluid.
During my plunge to the ground, I had knocked over a brown paper bag. In that bag was a small bottle of instant ecstasy. Alcohol. Not the drinking kind. The extra-flammable kind. I had knocked it over just enough to crack the lid, thereby leaking a bit out of the bottle. Talk about irony. My demon retook control of me, and threw the bag into the dumpster. The rush of flame was instantaneous. Satisfaction. I smiled as I left the alley to watch from a safe distance. I didn’t need to suffocate in smoke to appreciate my work. I took a sharp left out of the alley, looping around a cross-street and coming back almost a block away. The smoke streamed into the sky. People had started noticing the fire, but no one dared get too close. The fire trucks got there fairly fast, but I knew they wouldn’t bother saving the dumpster unless the fire threatened to spread to the buildings surrounding it. Even still, they put it out far too soon for me.
I walked home as the sun began to rise, feeling guilty. Not guilty. Ashamed. I had completely lost control of myself. I had given up my freedom to my addiction. And right when I had the opportunity to get up and walk away, I found the lighter fluid and lost myself again. Some epiphany. Feeling ashamed, I walked back to Stu’s filled with self-loathing. I was so lost in myself, I didn’t see Johnny until I was almost to the doorstep.
“We have a problem, Jared.” Johnny said. Not only did he scare me half to death, but he said it in such a way that I felt a chill go up my spine. Then I noticed the black eye he was sporting.
“Where’s Stu?” I asked, afraid of the answer.
“Vic’s gone. He somehow got out of the ropes. I came over to check on Stu; relieve him of his watch on Vic. I found Vic strangling him. I pulled him off and he clocked me. He was way too fast. When I came to I checked on Stu…He’s dead, Jared.”
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Chapter 15
After the usual ‘I’m not really dead’ conversation with Johnny, I was able to get a hold of a spare set of keys to almost every room in Tryst Tower. Johnny was as surprised as Walter, but later decided that he should have known all along. He said I was like a cockroach; you can’t just step on one and expect it to die. I always liked Johnny, and we had a nice visit as he filled me in on all the rumors going around the Tower. The going word at the time right before he left was that Olivia and Trystix were having some serious marital trouble. Trystix didn’t want word of it getting out to the public, so he fired anyone who even mentioned it. Then he fired anyone who had heard the rumors. Hence, Johnny was unemployed and full of bitterness.
I hopped on my bike and rode down some familiar streets. I drove past my old stomping grounds; down familiar streets and new buildings being built…Buildings owned by Trystix. Buildings I made possible through flame or deceit. I remembered the heat from the fires on my skin; remembered the sound of walls crumbling. It felt good to revisit some of my finest achievements, but it had a slightly bitter aftertaste. I had practiced my art for a tyrant. I didn’t care at the time, but it felt wrong to know that I’d helped him. It made me angry. Just more fuel for the fire in me I guess.
After the past few days, I’d set up the main structure of my plan. It would start slowly; I’d hack in to the security system and watch the cameras for a week or two. That meant I’d have to meet with Stu and have the awkward ‘I’m not dead’ conversation. I’d probably crash at his house during that time, watching and noting every security check-in and get to know when the guards made their rounds. Then I’d pick a guard, have Stu take him out for drinks, then borrow his uniform. I’d have to keep him tied up somewhere until I finished my mission. Walter offered to watch over him, and gave me his opinion on who would be the best option. Unfortunately, most of the guards were a lot bigger than me. I’d have to do some serious tucking and pinning for the uniform to look professional enough.
Stu said he’d try to get me a Class A keycard for now, then copy the unfortunate guard’s backstage pass once we abducted him. I had Johnny’s spare set of keys, so I should have complete access to every room I’d need to get into. Unfortunately, he didn’t have keys to Trystix’s safe or filing cabinets. That wouldn’t really be a problem for me. Picking locks or breaking them is something I’d always been good at. Johnny also told me about the service stairs at key points in the building, in case I needed a quick getaway.
After I got in, I would do the guard’s usual rounds, while Stu would loop the security tapes, making it look like I was just walking around doing my job for at least two hours. I would then get to my old apartment, and call Liv from my personal phone line. Johnny said Trystix never shut it down as a boon to Liv…Something like lighting a candle for the dead I guess. Whatever. Trystix would do anything to make Liv think he was actually something like human.
The wild card to my entire plan was Liv. I’d have to convince her to leave Trystix, leave Chicago, and return to Seattle with me, not to mention the part that I was still alive. I wouldn’t have much time to plead my case, but hopefully I could find some way to convince her…Maybe the fact that Alex Ryder was actually Raiden would make a difference. I didn’t really know what I’d say, but I figured I’d know in the moment. For now I would just sit back and watch the cameras.
After about a week of minimal sleep and microwave pizzas, I had picked my man. His name was Vic. He was a shorter, stockier man than I had first thought. He walked very proud most of the time; a cocky grin constantly on his face. He seemed very happy to be an authority in the most powerful man in the nation’s home. He continuously checked that his gun was clear in its holster, not that he’d ever needed to use it. The security measures were so regulated that the guards rarely saw more than a few people with picket signs outside the building. Vic was a loner, like myself. He didn’t really interact with anyone else in the building. He came in a few minutes early, and usually left a few minutes early as well. He seemed to think he transcended most of the rules. No wonder Trystix hired him.
What I didn’t know was where he lived. He had started a little after Stu had been fired, so Stu had no access to his personnel file. I’d have to improvise; follow him home or something. Not really a problem. It gave me a chance to leave Stu’s house for a night. I decided I would probably need something a little less conspicuous than my motorcycle, so Walter let me borrow his tan Toyota. There isn’t much more inconspicuous than a neutral-colored Toyota.
Following someone without them knowing they’re being followed is tricky at best. You have to be careful not to follow too close, but stay within visual range. It’s a balancing act. Lucky for me, Vic was oblivious to everything beyond his gun in the holster on his hip. To be honest, driving the clutch in the Toyota was the hard part. I ran a few red lights to keep up, but Vic’s convertible was pretty easy to spot if I fell too far behind. We drove threw suburban Chicago for a little more than half an hour, almost all the way back to Stu’s. What a waste of gas.
We turned a corner and instantly were stopped at a light. And then someone threw a wrench in the mix. No, literally. Someone threw a wrench out of a window. It slammed into the side of Vic’s car. You know those dings you can just hammer out of your car door? This did not leave one of those dings. It left the other kind…The kind that makes cocky security guards pull over and get all huffy.
Vic had turned crimson before the wrench even hit his car. He was irate. He stormed out of his car and started toward the door of the apartment. He began pounding on the door, screaming for someone to come out and either fix his car or give him the money to fix it. This was going to get complicated. I pulled around the next street and crept back to watch.
A young couple came out fairly quickly and yelled right back at Vic. Something about not waking the neighbors unless you want the neighbors to kick your teeth in. Apparently, the young man was in the middle of breaking up with his girlfriend, who threw the wrench. He told Vic to get steppin’ or there would be trouble. Vic took offense, puffed out his chest, and shoved the young man. Oh, Vic. Bad move. The young man clocked him and he crumpled like a dry leaf. The young man then started kicking him in the torso and head. I couldn’t have my cover in a hospital, so I ran up to the scuffle.
“Hey, bro. Cut it out man. It’s this moron’s bad. Sorry we interrupted. I’ll get his ass off your porch.” I said.
“Who the hell are you?” He asked between kicks.
“I’m his…parole officer. He stole my suit. I’m taking him downtown.”
“Yeah, you better. But I’m gonna kick his teeth in first!” He responded with another kick. His girlfriend began pulling him back, to which he shoved her down. I may burn things for a living, but I can’t stand domestic violence.
“Enough, man. Enough.” I tried to sound cool and collected.
“Mind your own business, pig!” He yelled back. The girl began crying.
“There’s no reason for that. Cool your jets, man. She didn’t do anything.”
“She got in my business! She deserves that and more! I’ll teach her better. You better leave, pig. You’re bugging me.” He turned around and started away.
Self-control, as you may have noticed, is not my strong-suit. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. I ducked, expecting the sucker punch, and hit him with a left to the solar plexus, followed by an uppercut. The boy collapsed next to the girl, who screamed. She pulled out a cell phone and ran in the house, leaving her boyfriend on the steps.
“Who…who’re…uhh…” Vic muttered. I punched him.
“Shut up. You’ve just gotten us in trouble. Time to go.” I put his arm around one of my shoulders and carried him to the Toyota.
Vic’s car was going to be a problem, so I took out his keys and tossed them onto the porch next to the young man. I figured I owed him something for the headache when he woke up. I doubted he’d say the car wasn’t his. Either way, he had no idea who either Vic nor myself were. In the distance, I could hear a siren. Not good. I climbed into the Toyota and started driving. Vic laid against the window, tongue hanging out. I was really starting to hate this guy.
We never made it to Vic’s house, due to the wrench incident, so I was just going to have to take him now. I had planned everything out; it was supposed to start a week from then. Well, you can’t plan stupidity. I didn’t really have anywhere I could take the imbecile except Stu’s, so I drove in that direction.
“No…sir…Mr…Trystix…I haven’t…heard…anything…Sh…She’s beautiful and lo….loves you…sir.” Vic mumbled. I laughed. Good to see Trystix was still insecure. It was almost time to exploit those insecurities. Just a few more loose ends…
I hopped on my bike and rode down some familiar streets. I drove past my old stomping grounds; down familiar streets and new buildings being built…Buildings owned by Trystix. Buildings I made possible through flame or deceit. I remembered the heat from the fires on my skin; remembered the sound of walls crumbling. It felt good to revisit some of my finest achievements, but it had a slightly bitter aftertaste. I had practiced my art for a tyrant. I didn’t care at the time, but it felt wrong to know that I’d helped him. It made me angry. Just more fuel for the fire in me I guess.
After the past few days, I’d set up the main structure of my plan. It would start slowly; I’d hack in to the security system and watch the cameras for a week or two. That meant I’d have to meet with Stu and have the awkward ‘I’m not dead’ conversation. I’d probably crash at his house during that time, watching and noting every security check-in and get to know when the guards made their rounds. Then I’d pick a guard, have Stu take him out for drinks, then borrow his uniform. I’d have to keep him tied up somewhere until I finished my mission. Walter offered to watch over him, and gave me his opinion on who would be the best option. Unfortunately, most of the guards were a lot bigger than me. I’d have to do some serious tucking and pinning for the uniform to look professional enough.
Stu said he’d try to get me a Class A keycard for now, then copy the unfortunate guard’s backstage pass once we abducted him. I had Johnny’s spare set of keys, so I should have complete access to every room I’d need to get into. Unfortunately, he didn’t have keys to Trystix’s safe or filing cabinets. That wouldn’t really be a problem for me. Picking locks or breaking them is something I’d always been good at. Johnny also told me about the service stairs at key points in the building, in case I needed a quick getaway.
After I got in, I would do the guard’s usual rounds, while Stu would loop the security tapes, making it look like I was just walking around doing my job for at least two hours. I would then get to my old apartment, and call Liv from my personal phone line. Johnny said Trystix never shut it down as a boon to Liv…Something like lighting a candle for the dead I guess. Whatever. Trystix would do anything to make Liv think he was actually something like human.
The wild card to my entire plan was Liv. I’d have to convince her to leave Trystix, leave Chicago, and return to Seattle with me, not to mention the part that I was still alive. I wouldn’t have much time to plead my case, but hopefully I could find some way to convince her…Maybe the fact that Alex Ryder was actually Raiden would make a difference. I didn’t really know what I’d say, but I figured I’d know in the moment. For now I would just sit back and watch the cameras.
After about a week of minimal sleep and microwave pizzas, I had picked my man. His name was Vic. He was a shorter, stockier man than I had first thought. He walked very proud most of the time; a cocky grin constantly on his face. He seemed very happy to be an authority in the most powerful man in the nation’s home. He continuously checked that his gun was clear in its holster, not that he’d ever needed to use it. The security measures were so regulated that the guards rarely saw more than a few people with picket signs outside the building. Vic was a loner, like myself. He didn’t really interact with anyone else in the building. He came in a few minutes early, and usually left a few minutes early as well. He seemed to think he transcended most of the rules. No wonder Trystix hired him.
What I didn’t know was where he lived. He had started a little after Stu had been fired, so Stu had no access to his personnel file. I’d have to improvise; follow him home or something. Not really a problem. It gave me a chance to leave Stu’s house for a night. I decided I would probably need something a little less conspicuous than my motorcycle, so Walter let me borrow his tan Toyota. There isn’t much more inconspicuous than a neutral-colored Toyota.
Following someone without them knowing they’re being followed is tricky at best. You have to be careful not to follow too close, but stay within visual range. It’s a balancing act. Lucky for me, Vic was oblivious to everything beyond his gun in the holster on his hip. To be honest, driving the clutch in the Toyota was the hard part. I ran a few red lights to keep up, but Vic’s convertible was pretty easy to spot if I fell too far behind. We drove threw suburban Chicago for a little more than half an hour, almost all the way back to Stu’s. What a waste of gas.
We turned a corner and instantly were stopped at a light. And then someone threw a wrench in the mix. No, literally. Someone threw a wrench out of a window. It slammed into the side of Vic’s car. You know those dings you can just hammer out of your car door? This did not leave one of those dings. It left the other kind…The kind that makes cocky security guards pull over and get all huffy.
Vic had turned crimson before the wrench even hit his car. He was irate. He stormed out of his car and started toward the door of the apartment. He began pounding on the door, screaming for someone to come out and either fix his car or give him the money to fix it. This was going to get complicated. I pulled around the next street and crept back to watch.
A young couple came out fairly quickly and yelled right back at Vic. Something about not waking the neighbors unless you want the neighbors to kick your teeth in. Apparently, the young man was in the middle of breaking up with his girlfriend, who threw the wrench. He told Vic to get steppin’ or there would be trouble. Vic took offense, puffed out his chest, and shoved the young man. Oh, Vic. Bad move. The young man clocked him and he crumpled like a dry leaf. The young man then started kicking him in the torso and head. I couldn’t have my cover in a hospital, so I ran up to the scuffle.
“Hey, bro. Cut it out man. It’s this moron’s bad. Sorry we interrupted. I’ll get his ass off your porch.” I said.
“Who the hell are you?” He asked between kicks.
“I’m his…parole officer. He stole my suit. I’m taking him downtown.”
“Yeah, you better. But I’m gonna kick his teeth in first!” He responded with another kick. His girlfriend began pulling him back, to which he shoved her down. I may burn things for a living, but I can’t stand domestic violence.
“Enough, man. Enough.” I tried to sound cool and collected.
“Mind your own business, pig!” He yelled back. The girl began crying.
“There’s no reason for that. Cool your jets, man. She didn’t do anything.”
“She got in my business! She deserves that and more! I’ll teach her better. You better leave, pig. You’re bugging me.” He turned around and started away.
Self-control, as you may have noticed, is not my strong-suit. I grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. I ducked, expecting the sucker punch, and hit him with a left to the solar plexus, followed by an uppercut. The boy collapsed next to the girl, who screamed. She pulled out a cell phone and ran in the house, leaving her boyfriend on the steps.
“Who…who’re…uhh…” Vic muttered. I punched him.
“Shut up. You’ve just gotten us in trouble. Time to go.” I put his arm around one of my shoulders and carried him to the Toyota.
Vic’s car was going to be a problem, so I took out his keys and tossed them onto the porch next to the young man. I figured I owed him something for the headache when he woke up. I doubted he’d say the car wasn’t his. Either way, he had no idea who either Vic nor myself were. In the distance, I could hear a siren. Not good. I climbed into the Toyota and started driving. Vic laid against the window, tongue hanging out. I was really starting to hate this guy.
We never made it to Vic’s house, due to the wrench incident, so I was just going to have to take him now. I had planned everything out; it was supposed to start a week from then. Well, you can’t plan stupidity. I didn’t really have anywhere I could take the imbecile except Stu’s, so I drove in that direction.
“No…sir…Mr…Trystix…I haven’t…heard…anything…Sh…She’s beautiful and lo….loves you…sir.” Vic mumbled. I laughed. Good to see Trystix was still insecure. It was almost time to exploit those insecurities. Just a few more loose ends…
Chapter 14
The hardest thing about being dead is definitely convincing people that you’re not really dead. I ran into this problem head-on. I made a few stops on my way back north. The first stop was at Walter Jensen’s home. Walter had been an accountant for years for Trystix while I had been there. Apparently something had changed. The usually tidy Walter was asleep on a couch when I got there, with an empty bottle in his hand and pizza boxes everywhere. It looked like he hadn’t left his small home in weeks…Except to get pizza.
Walter had been an extremely valuable employee to Trystix. His numbers were always on, and his numbers were always good. He came to work early, left late, and even worked holidays. He wore nice suits, was always clean-cut and trim, and was always just a small twitch from a smile. His kind demeanor was completely genuine. The heavy-set, shaggy-haired man on the couch was definitely not who I remembered. He was obviously lonely and depressed. He had a wife, but rarely saw her. Judging from all the empty picture frames around the apartment, I’d say she had left him. Apparently, Walter had lost a lot lately. Like his common sense; the door wasn’t even locked, and this was Chicago.
“Walter. Walter. Hey man, wake up.” I shook him as I spoke.
“No, Mr. Trystix. I haven’t finished the write-up yet. I’ll have it on your desk first thing tomorrow.” His speech was slurred. Alcohol will do that to you, I guess.
“I’m not Trystix.” Walter opened one eye, then closed it. Suddenly, both eyes shot open.
“Holy shi-…Jared? Jared? You’re dead!”
“You could say that…But I’m here nonetheless.”
“Are you a ghost? Am I haunted? Oh no…I’m dead! Are you my angel?”
“No. No, I’m not an angel. I’m really here. I’m real.”
“Oh man. I’ve really been drinking too much.”
See what I mean about convincing people you’re not dead?
“C’mon, Walter. Sit up. I need to talk to you.”
“Sure. Sure. I’ll just sit right up and talk to a ghost. I’m definitely not insane.”
“What happened to you? Why aren’t you at work?”
Walter spat.
“Gotta have a job to go to work, Jared.”
“You got fired? Why?” I asked.
“Trystix decided I knew too much. At least, that’s what I think. He gave me some bogus ‘budget cut’ excuse.”
“And your wife?” His face darkened at the mention of his wife.
“Left about a year ago, right before I lost the job. Just happy for my severance checks.”
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She said I’d left her the minute I started working for Trystix. She’s right you know. I never treated her right.”
“Walter, I need your help. You say you got fired because you knew too much? That’s exactly why I need you. How’d you like to help a dead man get even with Trystix.”
Walter smiled.
“Definitely. I just hope you’re not the vodka talking.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You know more about Trystix’s finances than anyone. How was he doing before you left? Financially, I mean?”
“As well as ever. Somehow, that bastard found a way to profit from the damn virus. It might have something to do with that Raiden guy. I bet he’s involved.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Pharmaceuticals have dropped in price, yet Trystix is still making money from his stock in them. Raiden has to be manipulating the output of the drugs, otherwise there would be no way to profit from it. It just doesn’t make sense unless someone is fabricating the numbers.”
“Interesting. Could Trystix be doing it somehow?” This was a curious perspective.
“Trystix is smart, brilliant even. But I don’t think he has that much stock in Raiden’s company. It would have to be someone who has control in Raiden’s camp. I just assumed it would be Raiden himself.”
“Could be, I guess. I was under a different impression of Raiden’s involvement. Definitely worth looking into though. Where does Trystix keep his records?”
“In a filing cabinet, in your old apartment. On top of the rug, covering up your death threat.”
I laughed.
“Death threat, huh? Is that how he took it?”
“He was scared to death of you. That’s why he gave you all that money. Hoping to buy you off. I always thought it convenient that you died a night later.”
“More than convenient. Planned. It was murder. But here I am, the walking dead.”
“Well, I imagine he’ll get his now, eh?”
“Only if you can tell me how to get in to the Tower unnoticed.”
“Easy. A keycard. I can help you. He fired some security personnel, too. You remember Big Stu?”
“Big Stu? Why’d he fire him?” Big Stuart Jones was next on my list of people to find.
“Stu told him he needed a raise if he was going to be working the twelve-hour shifts and doing the overtime. Trystix had even made him take his work home with him. He was making security clearances and watching the cameras at home. Trystix didn’t like the idea, so he sent him home early. Then Trystix cut his salary, then his hours, then just fired him. Stu lost his home, his car, everything. I guarantee he’d help settle the score.”
“Poor Stu. So you think he’d still have the right tech to get me in?”
“Absolutely. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Great, Walt. But he can’t know I’m alive. Not yet. The fewer that know the better.”
“Fine.” Walter had a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You gonna kill him, Jared? Trystix, I mean.”
“Yeah, but not yet. He has some pipers to pay first. One more thing…Think I could crash here tonight? I haven’t had time to find a hotel yet. I’ve been…busy.”
“What’s the matter, Jared? No grave to crawl back into?”
Walter had always had a great sense of humor. He nodded and led me back to a spare bedroom. There were papers and calculators everywhere. Looks like Stu wasn’t the only one taking work home. Walter brushed off a dusty couch, grabbed a blanket, then excused himself to find a pillow. I told him I appreciated the hospitality. I went out to my bike and grabbed my things. I reached into my bag and pulled out the small black box. I squeezed the latch and opened it. The gun sat on top, the bullets off to the side. I pulled it out and set it aside. My lock pick set was next, then the picture of Liv. I held the picture in my hands for a moment. I missed her. I missed my niece. But I’d see them soon. Finally, I pulled out a small yellow notepad from the bottom.
I had worked on my plan at the few stops I took on my way to Chicago. I checked off Walter and Stu’s names on my list. This took care of finding the records and the security issues; that left identification and getting the money and bonds out. The next name on my list was Johnny Michaels. Johnny had been a janitor and knew every nook and cranny of Tryst Tower. I’d have to find him tomorrow. The last name was the most important one; Olivia Donovan Trystix.
Walter had been an extremely valuable employee to Trystix. His numbers were always on, and his numbers were always good. He came to work early, left late, and even worked holidays. He wore nice suits, was always clean-cut and trim, and was always just a small twitch from a smile. His kind demeanor was completely genuine. The heavy-set, shaggy-haired man on the couch was definitely not who I remembered. He was obviously lonely and depressed. He had a wife, but rarely saw her. Judging from all the empty picture frames around the apartment, I’d say she had left him. Apparently, Walter had lost a lot lately. Like his common sense; the door wasn’t even locked, and this was Chicago.
“Walter. Walter. Hey man, wake up.” I shook him as I spoke.
“No, Mr. Trystix. I haven’t finished the write-up yet. I’ll have it on your desk first thing tomorrow.” His speech was slurred. Alcohol will do that to you, I guess.
“I’m not Trystix.” Walter opened one eye, then closed it. Suddenly, both eyes shot open.
“Holy shi-…Jared? Jared? You’re dead!”
“You could say that…But I’m here nonetheless.”
“Are you a ghost? Am I haunted? Oh no…I’m dead! Are you my angel?”
“No. No, I’m not an angel. I’m really here. I’m real.”
“Oh man. I’ve really been drinking too much.”
See what I mean about convincing people you’re not dead?
“C’mon, Walter. Sit up. I need to talk to you.”
“Sure. Sure. I’ll just sit right up and talk to a ghost. I’m definitely not insane.”
“What happened to you? Why aren’t you at work?”
Walter spat.
“Gotta have a job to go to work, Jared.”
“You got fired? Why?” I asked.
“Trystix decided I knew too much. At least, that’s what I think. He gave me some bogus ‘budget cut’ excuse.”
“And your wife?” His face darkened at the mention of his wife.
“Left about a year ago, right before I lost the job. Just happy for my severance checks.”
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She said I’d left her the minute I started working for Trystix. She’s right you know. I never treated her right.”
“Walter, I need your help. You say you got fired because you knew too much? That’s exactly why I need you. How’d you like to help a dead man get even with Trystix.”
Walter smiled.
“Definitely. I just hope you’re not the vodka talking.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You know more about Trystix’s finances than anyone. How was he doing before you left? Financially, I mean?”
“As well as ever. Somehow, that bastard found a way to profit from the damn virus. It might have something to do with that Raiden guy. I bet he’s involved.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Pharmaceuticals have dropped in price, yet Trystix is still making money from his stock in them. Raiden has to be manipulating the output of the drugs, otherwise there would be no way to profit from it. It just doesn’t make sense unless someone is fabricating the numbers.”
“Interesting. Could Trystix be doing it somehow?” This was a curious perspective.
“Trystix is smart, brilliant even. But I don’t think he has that much stock in Raiden’s company. It would have to be someone who has control in Raiden’s camp. I just assumed it would be Raiden himself.”
“Could be, I guess. I was under a different impression of Raiden’s involvement. Definitely worth looking into though. Where does Trystix keep his records?”
“In a filing cabinet, in your old apartment. On top of the rug, covering up your death threat.”
I laughed.
“Death threat, huh? Is that how he took it?”
“He was scared to death of you. That’s why he gave you all that money. Hoping to buy you off. I always thought it convenient that you died a night later.”
“More than convenient. Planned. It was murder. But here I am, the walking dead.”
“Well, I imagine he’ll get his now, eh?”
“Only if you can tell me how to get in to the Tower unnoticed.”
“Easy. A keycard. I can help you. He fired some security personnel, too. You remember Big Stu?”
“Big Stu? Why’d he fire him?” Big Stuart Jones was next on my list of people to find.
“Stu told him he needed a raise if he was going to be working the twelve-hour shifts and doing the overtime. Trystix had even made him take his work home with him. He was making security clearances and watching the cameras at home. Trystix didn’t like the idea, so he sent him home early. Then Trystix cut his salary, then his hours, then just fired him. Stu lost his home, his car, everything. I guarantee he’d help settle the score.”
“Poor Stu. So you think he’d still have the right tech to get me in?”
“Absolutely. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
“Great, Walt. But he can’t know I’m alive. Not yet. The fewer that know the better.”
“Fine.” Walter had a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You gonna kill him, Jared? Trystix, I mean.”
“Yeah, but not yet. He has some pipers to pay first. One more thing…Think I could crash here tonight? I haven’t had time to find a hotel yet. I’ve been…busy.”
“What’s the matter, Jared? No grave to crawl back into?”
Walter had always had a great sense of humor. He nodded and led me back to a spare bedroom. There were papers and calculators everywhere. Looks like Stu wasn’t the only one taking work home. Walter brushed off a dusty couch, grabbed a blanket, then excused himself to find a pillow. I told him I appreciated the hospitality. I went out to my bike and grabbed my things. I reached into my bag and pulled out the small black box. I squeezed the latch and opened it. The gun sat on top, the bullets off to the side. I pulled it out and set it aside. My lock pick set was next, then the picture of Liv. I held the picture in my hands for a moment. I missed her. I missed my niece. But I’d see them soon. Finally, I pulled out a small yellow notepad from the bottom.
I had worked on my plan at the few stops I took on my way to Chicago. I checked off Walter and Stu’s names on my list. This took care of finding the records and the security issues; that left identification and getting the money and bonds out. The next name on my list was Johnny Michaels. Johnny had been a janitor and knew every nook and cranny of Tryst Tower. I’d have to find him tomorrow. The last name was the most important one; Olivia Donovan Trystix.
Chapter 13
I’ve always been a big fan of the idea of karma; the idea that our actions lead to reactions which always come full circle. I love the idea of everything being connected, that everything we do matters. I’d like to think that our intentions make a difference. Like I said, I’d like to think that way. I like the idea of karma. But I don’t necessarily believe in it. I thought a lot about it on my way to Chicago. I decided that karma is an interesting concept, but it’s also an easy excuse for why things happen. Our actions may never react in a circular pattern, but I do believe in the laws of physics. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction unless acted upon by greater force. For Trystix, I was that greater force.
I would start small; find a hole in the wall to observe from and a place to work out of. That would be the easy part. The next few steps is where it would get tricky. I decided to spend some time with a phone book. I had a few names to look up, but mostly, I just needed to know they were still in Chicago. I sat in a little pizza place in the western quarter of the Second City and thumbed through the white pages. Too many people have cell phones these days, which makes phone numbers difficult. In the end though, they have to live somewhere. The last name I looked up was more out of curiosity than necessity; Allister Shane. I dialed from a cell phone Raiden gave me. An elderly, yet gentle-sounding woman answered.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Oh my, Angel? Is that you?”
“Yes, this is Angel. Who’s this? Do I know you?”
“You do…well, you did…Uh…I am a friend of Jared…Jared Donovan.”
“Jared? You knew Jared?”
“Yes. I knew him.”
“Is he..? Is he really dead?”
“Yeah…Plane crash. Really sad…He…wanted me to…to thank you. For believing in him.”
“My dear boy…What has the world done to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Jared, I know your voice. I have been waiting to hear your voice for the last seven years. They’re saying you’re dead! Why do they think that? You sound pretty alive to me?”
“I was on that plane. The one that crashed. Angel, is Allister there?”
“No…He’s…out…”
“Damn. I need some help. I need to come see him. I left something in the apartment you made for me. I’ll be by later, but you can’t tell anyone I’m alive. Angel, this is very important. No one can know. Ok?”
“All right, Jared. But you should clean up that mouth. No need to curse.”
“Ok, Angel. Sorry.” I laughed.
“You always were a funny one, Jared. I want you to know something. I always believed you were innocent of that fire. Allister never did, but I did. If you need anything, you’ll let me know?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, Angel.”
I finished my pizza, and hopped back on my bike. I was really going to miss the bike when I was done in Chicago. It wouldn’t do to transport such valuable materials on a motorcycle…They deserved better. I arrived to Angel and Allister’s around sunset. The place looked exactly the same. Something felt different though. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. My question was answered quickly after I got there though. The sound of a shotgun fired into the air will do that.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Allister.”
“Wipe the damn smile off your face, boy. I should shoot you dead where you stand.”
“I’ve told you before; I didn’t start that fire.”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t know why I should with a delinquent like you. What do you want?”
“I left something important in my room.”
“It’s been seven years you idiot! What makes you think you still have a room?”
“You don’t like change. You don’t change anything unless you have to. It’s a lesson plumbing taught you. You taught it to me.”
“Get lost. Never come here again.” He loaded another round.
“Seriously, Allister, all I need is five minutes.”
“You’ve got about two seconds before I blow your head off for trespassing.”
“Allister! Be civil!” Angel screeched from the doorstep.
“Stay inside, Angel. I’ll get rid of this vagrant.”
“Allister Douglas Shane! Lower that weapon!”
“B-But..!”
“NOW!”
You learn real quick that when Angel Shane says ‘now’, it means yesterday before she woke up. Allister lowered the gun and scowled. Angel walked down the steps and crossed the yard. She threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek.
“Well, I’m glad you came when you did. I’m afraid he would have put me down faster than he’d squash a cockroach.” I said
“He huffs and puffs, but he’s just a big softy underneath. What can we do for you, Jared?”
“Just let me in the old room for a minute or two. I have some…things I need to get.”
“Oh…Those things.”
Uh-oh.
“Allister, will you go get the box under the stairs? The one with the gun, the fake driver’s license, the picture of his sister, and the lock pick set?”
Not good. Not good.
“If it gets him out of here. His presence sickens me.” Allister stormed into the house in huff. He stopped at the door, and turned around. He gave me a very direct look, and set the gun against the house.
“I expect this has something to do with your sister?” Angel asked.
“Yeah. How’d you guess?”
“She’s the only thing you feel for enough to go to war for. That’s what you’re doing right? Going to war?”
“You could say that.”
Allister came back out, carrying a small black box with a broken lock. I had broken the lock years ago trying to open the box with a screwdriver in a moment of desperation. It had opened the box, but it also put a catch in the lock, so you had to squeeze the sides to get it to open. I had thought all of these items would be safe from the public eye forever. My father’s gun, my fake ID, my lock picks…Tools of a misspent youth I guess. I was impressed that Angel knew the entire contents of my little box. I thought I was the only one who knew the trick to get it open. Angel was an amazing woman.
“Now leave. Never come back. Far as I’m concerned you’re dead. You will be if you come back.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how sorry I am it’s come to this for us, Allister. Thank you for all your lessons.”
“Get lost. If you ever call again, I’ll tell everyone I know you’re alive.”
“Point taken. Goodbye.”
Angel came in for another hug and kissed my cheek.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you? Don’t get yourself killed…again…” She asked with a hint of a smile.
“I’ll try my best. Goodbye, Angel.”
“Goodbye, young man.” She stifled a sob and walked to the house.
I got on my bike and stuffed the box into a saddlebag. I had a busy night ahead of me. I wheeled around and headed back to the north, towards the looming Tryst Tower.
I would start small; find a hole in the wall to observe from and a place to work out of. That would be the easy part. The next few steps is where it would get tricky. I decided to spend some time with a phone book. I had a few names to look up, but mostly, I just needed to know they were still in Chicago. I sat in a little pizza place in the western quarter of the Second City and thumbed through the white pages. Too many people have cell phones these days, which makes phone numbers difficult. In the end though, they have to live somewhere. The last name I looked up was more out of curiosity than necessity; Allister Shane. I dialed from a cell phone Raiden gave me. An elderly, yet gentle-sounding woman answered.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Oh my, Angel? Is that you?”
“Yes, this is Angel. Who’s this? Do I know you?”
“You do…well, you did…Uh…I am a friend of Jared…Jared Donovan.”
“Jared? You knew Jared?”
“Yes. I knew him.”
“Is he..? Is he really dead?”
“Yeah…Plane crash. Really sad…He…wanted me to…to thank you. For believing in him.”
“My dear boy…What has the world done to you?”
“Excuse me?”
“Jared, I know your voice. I have been waiting to hear your voice for the last seven years. They’re saying you’re dead! Why do they think that? You sound pretty alive to me?”
“I was on that plane. The one that crashed. Angel, is Allister there?”
“No…He’s…out…”
“Damn. I need some help. I need to come see him. I left something in the apartment you made for me. I’ll be by later, but you can’t tell anyone I’m alive. Angel, this is very important. No one can know. Ok?”
“All right, Jared. But you should clean up that mouth. No need to curse.”
“Ok, Angel. Sorry.” I laughed.
“You always were a funny one, Jared. I want you to know something. I always believed you were innocent of that fire. Allister never did, but I did. If you need anything, you’ll let me know?”
“Absolutely. Thanks, Angel.”
I finished my pizza, and hopped back on my bike. I was really going to miss the bike when I was done in Chicago. It wouldn’t do to transport such valuable materials on a motorcycle…They deserved better. I arrived to Angel and Allister’s around sunset. The place looked exactly the same. Something felt different though. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. My question was answered quickly after I got there though. The sound of a shotgun fired into the air will do that.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Nice to see you too, Allister.”
“Wipe the damn smile off your face, boy. I should shoot you dead where you stand.”
“I’ve told you before; I didn’t start that fire.”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t know why I should with a delinquent like you. What do you want?”
“I left something important in my room.”
“It’s been seven years you idiot! What makes you think you still have a room?”
“You don’t like change. You don’t change anything unless you have to. It’s a lesson plumbing taught you. You taught it to me.”
“Get lost. Never come here again.” He loaded another round.
“Seriously, Allister, all I need is five minutes.”
“You’ve got about two seconds before I blow your head off for trespassing.”
“Allister! Be civil!” Angel screeched from the doorstep.
“Stay inside, Angel. I’ll get rid of this vagrant.”
“Allister Douglas Shane! Lower that weapon!”
“B-But..!”
“NOW!”
You learn real quick that when Angel Shane says ‘now’, it means yesterday before she woke up. Allister lowered the gun and scowled. Angel walked down the steps and crossed the yard. She threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek.
“Well, I’m glad you came when you did. I’m afraid he would have put me down faster than he’d squash a cockroach.” I said
“He huffs and puffs, but he’s just a big softy underneath. What can we do for you, Jared?”
“Just let me in the old room for a minute or two. I have some…things I need to get.”
“Oh…Those things.”
Uh-oh.
“Allister, will you go get the box under the stairs? The one with the gun, the fake driver’s license, the picture of his sister, and the lock pick set?”
Not good. Not good.
“If it gets him out of here. His presence sickens me.” Allister stormed into the house in huff. He stopped at the door, and turned around. He gave me a very direct look, and set the gun against the house.
“I expect this has something to do with your sister?” Angel asked.
“Yeah. How’d you guess?”
“She’s the only thing you feel for enough to go to war for. That’s what you’re doing right? Going to war?”
“You could say that.”
Allister came back out, carrying a small black box with a broken lock. I had broken the lock years ago trying to open the box with a screwdriver in a moment of desperation. It had opened the box, but it also put a catch in the lock, so you had to squeeze the sides to get it to open. I had thought all of these items would be safe from the public eye forever. My father’s gun, my fake ID, my lock picks…Tools of a misspent youth I guess. I was impressed that Angel knew the entire contents of my little box. I thought I was the only one who knew the trick to get it open. Angel was an amazing woman.
“Now leave. Never come back. Far as I’m concerned you’re dead. You will be if you come back.”
“Thank you. You have no idea how sorry I am it’s come to this for us, Allister. Thank you for all your lessons.”
“Get lost. If you ever call again, I’ll tell everyone I know you’re alive.”
“Point taken. Goodbye.”
Angel came in for another hug and kissed my cheek.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you? Don’t get yourself killed…again…” She asked with a hint of a smile.
“I’ll try my best. Goodbye, Angel.”
“Goodbye, young man.” She stifled a sob and walked to the house.
I got on my bike and stuffed the box into a saddlebag. I had a busy night ahead of me. I wheeled around and headed back to the north, towards the looming Tryst Tower.
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