Part 4: Project "The First Avenger"
Chief Nakamura led the gathered men into a conference room on an upper floor. Todd posted one of his own men outside, insisting that no one even enter the hallway where they were. The door was locked, and the men gathered around a table while the agents set up a projector connected to a laptop.
The first picture was familiar to Jerry. His client, where this had all started. Or, at least, what was left of him. From the picture, it was obvious he had been shot in the head.
Todd stood at the front of the room with a laser pointer in hand. "I don't suppose I have to remind you all that this is highly classified. No word of it is to leave this room, and that includes spouses," he said, staring straight at Jerry.
Jerry returned his look with a stonefaced one of his own. He cared little for Todd's warning, especially when his own family was in the crosshairs.
Fortunately, his boss didn't press the issue. He pointed his laser pointer at the face of the dead man. "This is Zak Lehman. No relation to the finance firm, so no jokes please. He was, in fact, one of our guys. Well, an informant anyway. Not an agent. He was a royal pain in the neck, but he was trying to help us crack this ring, so his loss is not insignificant."
Jerry frowned, feeling anger rise in him. Why had an informant involved him in this? Had they used Sadie and her medicine as bait?
Todd noticed. "Jerry, let me assure you, your involvement, and Sadie's meds, were a fluke. Zak did not know you or anything about your family, or he would have left you alone, I swear it. If he hadn't, I would have shot him myself."
That only eased Jerry's anger slightly. He knew Todd was capable of lying, and he couldn't help wondering if this was a total CYA moment.
"This drug ring, as you have likely all figured out, is different than others we have faced. They are well armed, well informed, and backed by powerful foreign allies. And, most dangerous of all, this has nothing to do with money. They want the drugs, because of what they can do."
Jerry traded puzzled looks with Stephens. The detective leaned forward. "Care to elaborate on that, sir? If you can?"
Todd glanced at the man in the plaid shirt. He nodded. Jerry wondered at that little exchange. He had been under the impression that Todd was in charge. Just who was this other guy?
Todd tapped a few keys and brought up another picture. It showed a partially blurred chemical formula, and two pictures. One was of a soldier, heavily muscled.
The other, oddly enough...was a still shot from the movie Captain America. On the picture was the title "Project The First Avenger".
"Science fiction become reality," Todd said softly. "Jerry, this medicine was not originally intended to help children like Sadie with their muscle atrophy. Far from it. It was a military experiment. Some genius biochemist discovered a formula that not only helped damaged muscles heal, but it also acted like steroids. With more permanent effects. Much faster effects. It stimulates muscles even without bodybuilding, heavy weights, etc."
Jerry found himself nodding. That was one of the traits that had made Sadie a candidate for this medicine. It would help her even without any therapy on her part.
Stephens was still frowning. "If this was a military brainchild, what in the world is it doing on the commercial market?"
Todd grimaced. "Well, it worked. As you can see from this picture, it made the subjects extremely strong and physically resilient. Superhuman, in some cases. This particular man was able to bench press a Volkswagen and still have muscle to spare."
That was impressive, but nothing they hadn't seen on the internet.
The man in the plaid finally spoke up. "Tell them how the program worked."
Todd shrugged. "Well, okay, you might as well have the whole story. Dr. Brandt approached his cousin who worked in the Army. He was a relatively minor functionary, but he knew some upper-ups, so he put a bee in someone's bonnet. Before you could blink, they had Brandt under lockdown and they were running tests on his concoction. After a few months, they decided that he was on to something. But it didn't seem to work well on grown men. They would have to recruit teens."
Jerry felt sick. Using kids as guinea pigs for science experiments?
The man in plaid spoke up again. "It's not as bad as you think. This was all done under strict conditions, with full approval from the parents, with teen boys who were already heavy into bodybuilding and who wanted to join the military. They knew exactly what they were getting into, and in about half the cases, they were already on steroids for various medical conditions. This medicine was actually seen as a safer alternative."
Todd brought up another picture. "Until it wasn't. The whole thing went horribly wrong."
The next thing on the screen was a short video of three of the test subjects attacking each other. They seemed....insane. Out of their heads. Attacking each other like rabid animals.
Jerry watched it with a horrified feeling. This was what they were giving his precious daughter? A chemical that would make her lose her mind and attack people?
Again, Todd noticed the look on his face. "Jerry, relax. Dr. Brandt was very careful when approaching the civilian market with this medicine. It has been very much reduced in potency, so that patients now only experience mild stimulation. Roughly equivalent to a cup of coffee."
He had noticed that with his daughter. She had been much more active, even to the point that it was hard to sleep at night. He had just put it down to the fact that she was feeling much better. He had no idea that the medicine was making her hyper.
"Are those boys okay now?" Stephens asked, aghast.
"Yes. They went through severe withdrawal for a few weeks, but they were able to detox them and help them recover. Their muscle growth seems to be permanent, but now, because they are far larger than their frames were intended for, they fatigue easily. They are all still in the military, in various engineering positions. It seemed...safest."
Burying their mistakes without actually killing anyone. Jerry was disgusted, and he could tell the others felt the same.
Nakamura raised a hand. "So now, the question is...who are these men, and what do they want with this medication?"
Todd glanced at the plaid man again. This time, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that is something we can't really share. All I can say is that they want the medicine for its effects. From what Zak was able to tell us, this is an existing gang that shifted tactics when this new opportunity came up. They already had a network of contacts in the pharma industry, doctors offices, etc."
"Jerry, in your case, the janitor in the doctor's office was the culprit. He was cozying up to the secretary so he could watch her and learn her passwords into the computer. He gave Zak the info, Zak did the dirty deed. We've got the janitor under lock and key, trying to find out who hired him. It may be a dead end, though, it sounds like Zak was the only contact that he had any information for. Everyone else he talked to in dark alleys at night, where he couldn't see anything."
Nakamura shrugged. "Okay, so your contact is dead, and Jerry's family could be in mortal danger. What do we do now? Just wait for them to make another move?"
"Yes and no. This gang isn't one of those vengeful groups. They're too smart for that. They know full well that Jerry went to the police, and they probably also know his family is under lock and key. They have contacts all over the country, they'll just pull up stakes and go elsewhere."
He clicked another key and another screen came up. "In fact, that's how we cottoned on to this operation in the first place. They started this whole gig in Cincinnati. There's a specialist there with five patients. One of them swore up and down that her medicine had to have been stolen, because she keeps it in a locked drawer and never removes it except to take a pill."
"The doctor dismissed that, but then another patient came in with a similar story. Medicine like that is expensive; there is no way these patients were just being careless. The doctor called the police, and they thought it was just a local narc gang out for big ticket items. They set up a sting with the remaining 3 patients, and managed to get footage of the thieves."
"These guys operated with the precision of a cat burglar. They took the medicine, and only the medicine, even though there was diamond jewelry in the same lockbox. That right there told us these were not normal thieves."
"We started working our contacts, and found out that a disaffected nurse from Dr. Brandt's office had leaked footage and documents about this to...well, the foreign friends of our drug ring. That blew this case up, and now just about every agency is involved in one way or another."
Plaid Shirt came to the front of the room. "There is little reason for all of you to be involved in this now. Sadie is the only patient left in this town that needs this medication, and our pill-stealing friends know we are watching her. I'm guessing in a week or two, everything will die down and go back to normal. Jerry, to ensure this, we are going to install a safe in your home. We've seen, from footage from stings, that they don't bother with safes. Too much risk of triggering an alarm. They've tried very, very hard to keep this quiet."
The other men whispered quietly while Todd and Plaid Shirt held a quick conference at the front of the room. Jerry was silent, leaned back in his chair, fighting the old itch that was starting to hit him.
He wanted to get involved. He wanted it so badly. But...his wife and his children needed him. What if Todd was wrong? What if they continued to target his family? He couldn't live with the possibility that his family would die because of these guys.
Stephens put a hand on his shoulder. "Jerry? Are you okay?"
He shook himself a little, nodding. "I'm fine. But...I don't know. Todd, what do you want us to do?"
Todd noticed his use of the word "us", but didn't address it. "For now, not much, besides keeping your family out at the farm, and out of trouble. They've had enough stress, you need to do everything you can to assure them that this was just a big mistake, and they will be fine."
"Will they?" Jerry muttered, as the meeting broke up.
He grabbed his bag and got ready to leave. Stephens was going to take him out to the farm.
Todd appeared at his shoulder. "You know, ordinarily I wouldn't be allowed to even talk to you about this, given your family's involvement. But...this would be right up your alley, Jerry. We could use your help. You have no idea how stretched thin we are on this."
Jerry didn't know how to answer. He had the itch, and Todd knew him well enough, he could probably see it.
But he wouldn't do anything without talking to Lila. And she would probably say no.
And they both knew it.
Monday, July 24, 2017
The Bicycle Part 3
Part 3: Lila
A very worried young mother sat on the floor, with her sick and shaking daughter Sadie in one hand, her other hand helping her thankfully oblivious three year old build a block tower. Xander seemed to notice nothing, other than the fact that "sissy sick again".
An older, grandmotherly woman sat on the well-worn leather sofa, reading a book to a seven year old Paxton, who kept glancing nervously at the handgun tucked into a shoulder holster on the woman beside him.
Lila was forever grateful for Georgia. She had been like the mother that Lila had lost when she was nineteen. Georgia was like that for most of the kids in the city. Her home had been used for unofficial foster care for years, since the tall, bubbly woman had not been able to have children of her own. Then, after her husband had retired from the local police force, she had started taking in troubled teens and families escaping domestic violence.
Given that she was an avid gun collector, and could nail a fly on a fencepost at two hundred yards with most of them, her home was considered the safest in the city.
Sadie shuddered in Lila's arms, whimpering a little as she struggled to breathe. The medicine she had been receiving for the last several months had seemed like a miracle, nearly eliminating the need for hospital stays, blood tests, oxygen masks, and dozens of doctors hovering over her day and night. She had been like a new kid, running and screaming and playing with her brothers in their backyard, happily giggling and climbing all over the new swingset the community had purchased for her as a get-well gift.
Now, it was like it had been in the beginning. Every breath, every second a struggle just for survival.
Lila heard a knock at the door. She stared wild-eyed at it, then at Georgia, who had come to her feet with her gun already in hand, carefully parting the curtains.
"It's Luis."
Lila sighed in relief. Sadie's meds had arrived. Part of her wanted to strangle the greedy jerk who had taken them. The rest of her just wanted her little girl to feel better.
The door opened and Jerry's cousin slipped inside. He smiled in encouragement at Sadie, who had perked up a little at the sight of him, and the bag in his hand. "Uncle Luis? Is that...my...pill?"
He nodded and handed her a pill, with a bottle of her favorite chocolate milk. She swallowed the pill hungrily, like a starving man, and carefully sipped at the milk. She had to eat and drink carefully, since a choking episode could mean death for her.
Lila looked up at Luis with questions on her face. Questions she did not dare voice around her already frightened children. She had thought they were past this. She had thought that Jerry's retirement from the agency would be the end of the guns, and the constant fear.
Luis sighed. "I'm sorry, but honestly, I don't know a lot more than you do. We are trying to catch the guys that did this, and we are trying to figure out what they want with the pills. They're expensive, of course. But these guys...sorry. I wish I could tell you more."
"They aren't normal crooks, are they?" Lila asked shrewdly. "They targeted us specifically, because of these pills. It isn't just money they are after, is it?"
Luis glanced at Stan, who had come into the room. The older man nodded tightly. Lila had already figured out at least half of it, and was well on her way to figuring out the other half.
"That's true. They aren't. I swear to you, I don't really know what is going on, but..." he hesitated, not sure if he should tell her.
She glared at him. "Luis...you guys can't keep me in the dark anymore. I am going to protect my kids, even if I have to protect them from you. And Jerry. So spit it out. What aren't you telling me?"
He bit his lip, then shrugged and dropped into a chair. "I don't know if it means anything, but...as I was leaving, a car pulled up. Guess who was in it?"
She shook her head. "No clue."
"Todd."
She felt like her blood had turned to ice. "No. Not again. Luis, Todd isn't here to talk Jerry into coming back, is he?"
"Again, I don't know. I don't have clearance to know. But whatever is going on, it's big. We are going to move you to my mom's place tonight. It's way out in the country, in the middle of nowhere, really. You'll be safe there. Our narc department will send you with some dedicated guards."
"I'm going too," Georgia insisted, in a voice that was more of a threat than anything else. "I know your mom is a fighter, Luis, but Lila needs me. The kids do too. Stephens has some good guys, but they get distracted too easily. I'm not leaving these kids until this is over with."
Luis nodded. "Figured you'd say that. Be ready as soon as it's dark, about nine-ish. I'll get a text when they are ready for us."
He came back to his feet. "I'm sorry about all this, Lila. Of all the people to get dragged into this...I don't think they know about Jerry. I honestly don't think this is about your family at all. It's about the drugs, somehow. We will figure this out, I promise."
Across town, in the house with the red Honda, a man was frantically arguing for his life.
"I didn't know who he was, I swear!"
"Truly? Then you are more stupid than I had thought. His address was on his website. Of all the people you called to fix your bike, you called the girl's father."
"You said to get the bike fixed and ready for transport. And you said it had to be done immediately. I just got the guy with the fastest response time, and the best rating--"
"You screwed up. Again. But it is the last time. We are done with you."
The man swallowed hard. "But...I can do better! I can silence them. All of them. Just give me time."
"The bicycle man has already gone to the police. He has friends there. I am still trying to figure out how he stirred up the hornets there so quickly...he must be a former cop. But we are going to leave them alone. All of them. They are expecting retaliation; to go after them now would be to invite them to come down on our heads like a freighter of bricks."
"But...your guy in the department--"
"Got himself dismissed on drug charges two weeks ago. He was as useless as he was stupid, and he has already been dealt with."
There was a long, strained silence, then two men stood, facing the quivering, pale third man.
"This is far bigger than one man. You know little enough, but what you know could still be damaging. You can no longer be trusted. Therefore, you are done."
There was silence again. For a long minute. Two men slipped out of the door, and into a black Mercedes. It vanished down the street as unnoticed as it had come.
Jerry sat across from Todd in a briefing room, waiting as others were gathered in. He still wasn't sure what this was about, but Todd was the agency's liaison to the DEA. At least, he had been. Jerry wasn't sure what his job was now. The man never seemed to be content to stay in one place for too long. He bounced around the agency like a pinball.
Jerry leaned his head back against the wall, watching the activity with hooded eyes. Todd was on the phone, talking to one of his men.
The bicycle repairman had mixed feelings. Todd had been his boss, his mentor, and even his friend. But friendship had its limits, and Todd had strained them once too often. Jerry had nearly died, nearly left his new, pregnant bride a widow. Lila had been furious, and had put her foot down. No more. She would leave him if he stayed with the agency.
And so he had left his job. His superiors hadn't exactly been happy, but to Jerry, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him. A weight he had been carrying for far too long.
The door flew open, and Stephens came in. His face was grim as he motioned Todd over. Jerry couldn't hear the whole conversation, but he heard the words "red Honda" and "dead"
Todd nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. "Did we get anything out of the neighbors?"
"That whole neighborhood sleeps all day and parties all night," Stephens said flatly. "We managed to get a small camera on the Honda, and we got a plate on another car that was there. Also got partial views of the two guys that were there. Presumably our hit men. Jessie is running them through the system for matches."
Jerry felt his fear heighten. His client, the pill thief, had been killed. Was his family in even greater danger now?
Todd noticed him, sitting up with his shoulders rigid. He came over to Jerry. "Don't worry. We have some data on this guy already, some of his contacts and such. And we're watching all of them closely. Your family will be fine."
"Your promises don't exactly fill me with confidence, Todd," Jerry bit out. "I want to know what is really going on, and I want to know now. I still have my clearance, if you remember. It was never revoked."
Todd shrugged. "What can I say? I always hoped you'd come back some day. That you would miss all the fun and excitement. I'll make a few calls and see what I can do."
After five more minutes, and several phone calls, Todd came back to him. "Okay. We can give you a little info. Just so you know why your family is tangled up in this, and a general idea of what is going on. But no more than that. Deal?"
It would have to be enough. Jerry nodded. "When?"
The door opened, and another man entered. A tall stranger. He had a beard and a plaid shirt, work boots, and tired eyes. He looked like a lumberjack.
But his eyes were roving over the room, taking in everything. This was an agent, and probably an experienced one. Jerry wondered who he was. He thought he knew everyone in the agency. At least, everyone older than him.
Todd noticed the man in the plaid shirt, and nodded, looking around. "Everyone's here. All right, let's get this over with. We have a drug ring to bust up. Hopefully before it's too late."
A very worried young mother sat on the floor, with her sick and shaking daughter Sadie in one hand, her other hand helping her thankfully oblivious three year old build a block tower. Xander seemed to notice nothing, other than the fact that "sissy sick again".
An older, grandmotherly woman sat on the well-worn leather sofa, reading a book to a seven year old Paxton, who kept glancing nervously at the handgun tucked into a shoulder holster on the woman beside him.
Lila was forever grateful for Georgia. She had been like the mother that Lila had lost when she was nineteen. Georgia was like that for most of the kids in the city. Her home had been used for unofficial foster care for years, since the tall, bubbly woman had not been able to have children of her own. Then, after her husband had retired from the local police force, she had started taking in troubled teens and families escaping domestic violence.
Given that she was an avid gun collector, and could nail a fly on a fencepost at two hundred yards with most of them, her home was considered the safest in the city.
Sadie shuddered in Lila's arms, whimpering a little as she struggled to breathe. The medicine she had been receiving for the last several months had seemed like a miracle, nearly eliminating the need for hospital stays, blood tests, oxygen masks, and dozens of doctors hovering over her day and night. She had been like a new kid, running and screaming and playing with her brothers in their backyard, happily giggling and climbing all over the new swingset the community had purchased for her as a get-well gift.
Now, it was like it had been in the beginning. Every breath, every second a struggle just for survival.
Lila heard a knock at the door. She stared wild-eyed at it, then at Georgia, who had come to her feet with her gun already in hand, carefully parting the curtains.
"It's Luis."
Lila sighed in relief. Sadie's meds had arrived. Part of her wanted to strangle the greedy jerk who had taken them. The rest of her just wanted her little girl to feel better.
The door opened and Jerry's cousin slipped inside. He smiled in encouragement at Sadie, who had perked up a little at the sight of him, and the bag in his hand. "Uncle Luis? Is that...my...pill?"
He nodded and handed her a pill, with a bottle of her favorite chocolate milk. She swallowed the pill hungrily, like a starving man, and carefully sipped at the milk. She had to eat and drink carefully, since a choking episode could mean death for her.
Lila looked up at Luis with questions on her face. Questions she did not dare voice around her already frightened children. She had thought they were past this. She had thought that Jerry's retirement from the agency would be the end of the guns, and the constant fear.
Luis sighed. "I'm sorry, but honestly, I don't know a lot more than you do. We are trying to catch the guys that did this, and we are trying to figure out what they want with the pills. They're expensive, of course. But these guys...sorry. I wish I could tell you more."
"They aren't normal crooks, are they?" Lila asked shrewdly. "They targeted us specifically, because of these pills. It isn't just money they are after, is it?"
Luis glanced at Stan, who had come into the room. The older man nodded tightly. Lila had already figured out at least half of it, and was well on her way to figuring out the other half.
"That's true. They aren't. I swear to you, I don't really know what is going on, but..." he hesitated, not sure if he should tell her.
She glared at him. "Luis...you guys can't keep me in the dark anymore. I am going to protect my kids, even if I have to protect them from you. And Jerry. So spit it out. What aren't you telling me?"
He bit his lip, then shrugged and dropped into a chair. "I don't know if it means anything, but...as I was leaving, a car pulled up. Guess who was in it?"
She shook her head. "No clue."
"Todd."
She felt like her blood had turned to ice. "No. Not again. Luis, Todd isn't here to talk Jerry into coming back, is he?"
"Again, I don't know. I don't have clearance to know. But whatever is going on, it's big. We are going to move you to my mom's place tonight. It's way out in the country, in the middle of nowhere, really. You'll be safe there. Our narc department will send you with some dedicated guards."
"I'm going too," Georgia insisted, in a voice that was more of a threat than anything else. "I know your mom is a fighter, Luis, but Lila needs me. The kids do too. Stephens has some good guys, but they get distracted too easily. I'm not leaving these kids until this is over with."
Luis nodded. "Figured you'd say that. Be ready as soon as it's dark, about nine-ish. I'll get a text when they are ready for us."
He came back to his feet. "I'm sorry about all this, Lila. Of all the people to get dragged into this...I don't think they know about Jerry. I honestly don't think this is about your family at all. It's about the drugs, somehow. We will figure this out, I promise."
Across town, in the house with the red Honda, a man was frantically arguing for his life.
"I didn't know who he was, I swear!"
"Truly? Then you are more stupid than I had thought. His address was on his website. Of all the people you called to fix your bike, you called the girl's father."
"You said to get the bike fixed and ready for transport. And you said it had to be done immediately. I just got the guy with the fastest response time, and the best rating--"
"You screwed up. Again. But it is the last time. We are done with you."
The man swallowed hard. "But...I can do better! I can silence them. All of them. Just give me time."
"The bicycle man has already gone to the police. He has friends there. I am still trying to figure out how he stirred up the hornets there so quickly...he must be a former cop. But we are going to leave them alone. All of them. They are expecting retaliation; to go after them now would be to invite them to come down on our heads like a freighter of bricks."
"But...your guy in the department--"
"Got himself dismissed on drug charges two weeks ago. He was as useless as he was stupid, and he has already been dealt with."
There was a long, strained silence, then two men stood, facing the quivering, pale third man.
"This is far bigger than one man. You know little enough, but what you know could still be damaging. You can no longer be trusted. Therefore, you are done."
There was silence again. For a long minute. Two men slipped out of the door, and into a black Mercedes. It vanished down the street as unnoticed as it had come.
Jerry sat across from Todd in a briefing room, waiting as others were gathered in. He still wasn't sure what this was about, but Todd was the agency's liaison to the DEA. At least, he had been. Jerry wasn't sure what his job was now. The man never seemed to be content to stay in one place for too long. He bounced around the agency like a pinball.
Jerry leaned his head back against the wall, watching the activity with hooded eyes. Todd was on the phone, talking to one of his men.
The bicycle repairman had mixed feelings. Todd had been his boss, his mentor, and even his friend. But friendship had its limits, and Todd had strained them once too often. Jerry had nearly died, nearly left his new, pregnant bride a widow. Lila had been furious, and had put her foot down. No more. She would leave him if he stayed with the agency.
And so he had left his job. His superiors hadn't exactly been happy, but to Jerry, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted from him. A weight he had been carrying for far too long.
The door flew open, and Stephens came in. His face was grim as he motioned Todd over. Jerry couldn't hear the whole conversation, but he heard the words "red Honda" and "dead"
Todd nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. "Did we get anything out of the neighbors?"
"That whole neighborhood sleeps all day and parties all night," Stephens said flatly. "We managed to get a small camera on the Honda, and we got a plate on another car that was there. Also got partial views of the two guys that were there. Presumably our hit men. Jessie is running them through the system for matches."
Jerry felt his fear heighten. His client, the pill thief, had been killed. Was his family in even greater danger now?
Todd noticed him, sitting up with his shoulders rigid. He came over to Jerry. "Don't worry. We have some data on this guy already, some of his contacts and such. And we're watching all of them closely. Your family will be fine."
"Your promises don't exactly fill me with confidence, Todd," Jerry bit out. "I want to know what is really going on, and I want to know now. I still have my clearance, if you remember. It was never revoked."
Todd shrugged. "What can I say? I always hoped you'd come back some day. That you would miss all the fun and excitement. I'll make a few calls and see what I can do."
After five more minutes, and several phone calls, Todd came back to him. "Okay. We can give you a little info. Just so you know why your family is tangled up in this, and a general idea of what is going on. But no more than that. Deal?"
It would have to be enough. Jerry nodded. "When?"
The door opened, and another man entered. A tall stranger. He had a beard and a plaid shirt, work boots, and tired eyes. He looked like a lumberjack.
But his eyes were roving over the room, taking in everything. This was an agent, and probably an experienced one. Jerry wondered who he was. He thought he knew everyone in the agency. At least, everyone older than him.
Todd noticed the man in the plaid shirt, and nodded, looking around. "Everyone's here. All right, let's get this over with. We have a drug ring to bust up. Hopefully before it's too late."
Sunday, July 23, 2017
The Bicycle Part 2
Part 2: Luis
Luis opened the fridge, looking inside, faint hope dying quickly. Yup, it was time to go shopping. But since it was only six hours till his next shift, and he hadn't slept since his last shift, groceries would have to wait.
He pulled out a plastic bowl with some soup and took a sniff. Didn't smell bad, and there was no mold...it would have to do.
He shoved it into the nuke box and hit the reheat button. He hated life as a bachelor. But when he thought about getting married, and having little snot-nosed copies of himself running around...
Okay, maybe life wasn't so bad.
With the soup in one hand, and a can of fizzy sugar water in the other, he strolled into the living room and dropped onto the couch, turning on the one-eyed monster most people called a television. He would probably fall asleep here. Again. He checked his cell phone to make sure that his alarm was on.
Then he looked again, with a frown. Jerry was calling.
His cousin knew his work schedule. Why would Jerry wake him up?
He answered it. "Dude, this had better be good."
"I just got shot at."
He froze. Jerry was about as vanilla as a man could be. Well...these days, anyway. "You run into an old friend?" he asked, setting his soup aside.
"No, someone I've never met. Over on Canby, between fifth and sixth."
Luis rolled his eyes. "Didn't your mom teach you to stay out of that 'hood? Every other house is a drug dealer, and the ones in between are users."
"Yeah, I know. And you'll love what this one was dealing. He had Sadie's meds."
Luis frowned deeply, grabbing his shoes and pulling them on. A tiny bell went off his his head. Just this morning he had gotten a department wide email from the narcotics division. Something was up. Something big, and it involved experimental drugs. How in the world they had known to get them from Sadie, and how Jerry had found out, and...
He suddenly realized why Jerry sounded so anxious. Aside from getting shot at, his family was probably in danger.
"Jerry, call your wife and have her get out of the house. With the kids. Now."
"I already did. I'm not that far gone, man. But the guy that had her meds was chasing me with a .44 caliber and a souped up Honda, so I had to hide. Not sure I dare move from where I'm at."
"Where are you, anyway?"
"In a parking garage, in some kind of condo complex. Can you track my phone?"
Luis checked his map. His cousin had done a Google location share a while back, and luckily, it was still there. "Yes. Sit tight, I'm going to call Stephens and have him pick me up, then we'll come get you. Unmarked car, dark gray blue LeSabre."
"He's still driving that old relic?"
"It was his first trophy, dude. He'll drive it into the ground." Luis checked the clock. He had to be quick to catch the narc detective before he left for the day. "Gotta call him. Just stay put, I'll tell you when we're close."
"Got it. What about Lila?"
"Call her and tell her to go to Georgia's place. I'll call Georgia after Stephens and tell her to get out the 12-gauge and buckshot."
"Okay. Thanks Luis, I really appreciate this."
Luis snorted. "Dude, I got a pretty grim email this morning from the boss. If this is what I think it is, you won't want to thank me later. You may never want to speak to me again."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'll tell you later. Gotta get moving, and you need to call. See you in a few."
After two quick phone calls, Luis was on the road. His nerves were on edge, worried sick about his cousin. This was no normal drug ring, and if they found Jerry, or Lila and the kids, it could be the worst tragedy their city had seen in years.
He wondered, just as Jerry had, how they had found Sadie. How did they know she had these particular meds? There had to be a snitch in the doctor's office. They had to track him down, and fast, before more patients ended up as victims.
He glanced sideways at Stephens. The detective's face was tight, and his knuckles were white as he shot through town a little faster than his normal, placid pace. "I got the email. But it was kinda vague. What is going on?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. Just...this is more than just a domestic drug ring. The CIA is involved, Homeland Security...these are some really bad guys. Jerry has been through enough, he doesn't need this kind of crap again."
"I know. How in the world did these guys find Sadie?"
"Well, as to that, we think we've pegged one of the janitors in the doctor's office. I've got a guy in there watching him, cameras everywhere...we are close to nailing him. But I want to get video of him talking to his contact in the drug ring. This is big, Luis. Probably the biggest case the department has ever seen."
Luis felt chills down his spine. "What are we going to do about Jerry and Lila?"
"Get them out of here. As quick as we can. You sent them over to Georgia, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay, well, knowing her and Stan, they'll be safe enough for now. I'll get a team together to get them out of town. Your mom still has the farm, right?"
"Yeah, she only lives there in the summer, but she should be there for another month."
"Hope she doesn't mind having company."
"Neh, she loves Jerry's family."
"I meant my boys."
"Oh. Well, so long as they mind their manners. Lila's a brown belt after all."
Stephens chuckled darkly. "They aren't like that. But they can be a bit much, especially when they get trigger-happy."
"Just keep them outside, and the kids inside."
"Right."
Jerry found himself jumping half out of his skin every time someone came into or out of the parking garage. He found himself wishing he had brought more than just his not-quite-legal switchblade with him.
Finally, after nearly half an hour, he heard Luis' familiar voice. He emerged from his dark corner, trying to hide his shaking hands. "Took you long enough."
Luis had his gun out, checking the shadows as he approached. "Yeah, well, we had to do this right. We took a cruise by your client's house, by the way. Car's there again."
"Better than after me," Jerry grunted, pulling his bike over to Gerald Stephens' car. He quickly removed the handlebars and stuffed the whole mess into the trunk, then pulled on a hooded sweatshirt Luis handed him, and hopped into the back seat.
During the ride to the precinct, he told them everything that had happened, doing his best to omit his own speculations. They were hardly necessary. He knew that they would come to the same conclusions he had.
When he finished, he looked in the mirror, just catching Stephens' eye. "So what's going on? Luis said there was some kind of email that might connect to this."
The detective sighed. "If it were anyone else, I'd say nunya business. But this is you, so...I can't tell you much. All I can say is that this is big, and involves the feds."
"How did they find us? How do they know about Sadie?"
"We think we have our guy, as far as that goes. Just collecting evidence now. You have the bottle, right?"
"Yeah. I'm sure it's got my prints all over it now."
Stephens shrugged. "Well, our forensics guys are good. If they can get prints and DNA on your friend in the red Honda, we can nail him to the wall. The only question is whether he is spineless enough to toss his friends under the bus in the process."
Jerry sat back in his seat, closing his eyes. He had thought he had gotten away from all this. It was bringing up some very unpleasant memories.
His phone rang. It was Lila. He answered it. "Hi sweetie, are you guys okay?"
"Yes, we are fine for now, but Sadie is not doing so good. Can I go to the doctor's office and get her a few more meds? He has some samples--"
"No. Don't go to the office. I'll figure something out, but stay away from there."
"Jerry, please. Don't keep me in the dark again. What is going on?"
Jerry glanced at the man in the driver's seat. He just shook his head. Now wasn't the time. "I've been talking to Luis and one of the detectives in the narcotics department. We're trying to figure it out. I don't have a lot of answers for you. Just trust me for now, and I'll explain it as soon as we get some hard data."
"You better not be putting me off, buster."
He shook his head, forgetting she couldn't see him. She was as stubborn as she was beautiful. "Sweetie, believe me, I know better than that. Seriously, this is a bigger tangle than I thought. Just do what Georgia and Stan tell you, okay?"
"I'm not five."
"And this isn't schoolyard bullying, Lila. For once, don't argue. Please."
She sighed. "Okay. I love you, Jerry."
"I love you too."
He hung up and glanced up into the front seat, where the pill bottle was now in an evidence bag. "Any chance I can get one or two of the pills out of there and taken to Lila? Sadie really needs her meds."
"I'll talk to the supervisor about it. We can probably shake some loose in an hour or two. I'll have one of my boys take them over to Georgia's."
It wasn't ideal, but he didn't want to compromise the investigation any more than he likely already had. "Fine. Thanks."
When they reached the precinct, Luis took care of his bike while Stephens brought him into the chief's office. He quickly scratched out a deposition on the situation while the detective practically melted his phone making calls. The bottle was handed off to the forensics team, where the lead tech assured him that they could have a few pills ready to send to Sadie in just a couple of hours.
They still didn't tell him much, but if the feds were involved...maybe a new drug kingpin had moved into town? Maybe this was part of a sting involving international cooperation?
That didn't seem quite right to him. He decided to wait and see what else happened.
More than an hour passed, with him planted in a hard chair, just staring at the ceiling. Everyone else was busy, and he found himself itching to do something. Anything.
But he had left this life behind, and he wasn't sorry. Well...not much, anyway.
Luis had been sent over to Georgia's house with the pills, along with two plainclothes officers, to act as guards for Jerry's family. Luis was told to stay there, since Jerry's kids knew and trusted him, and the chief told him not to worry about his shift.
Jerry found that strange. Chief Nakamura was strict about scheduling. If you called in sick, you had better be dragging you own severed leg behind you as your excuse.
If he were really honest with himself, he was getting tired of the drama. Everyone was so serious about this, like it was some kind of world-ending event. It was another drug ring, on another crusade to make themselves rich and everyone else miserable. Why was everyone so worked up about it?
Shortly after that thought pranced around his head, he got his answer. The door opened, and in walked a man he had fervently prayed he would never see again. The faint, humorless smile on the man's face was familiar, and it sent uncomfortable chills down his spine. Whatever this was, if his old boss was involved, it was big.
"Hello, Jerry."
Jerry managed a smile that was more a sickly grimace. "Hello Todd."
Luis opened the fridge, looking inside, faint hope dying quickly. Yup, it was time to go shopping. But since it was only six hours till his next shift, and he hadn't slept since his last shift, groceries would have to wait.
He pulled out a plastic bowl with some soup and took a sniff. Didn't smell bad, and there was no mold...it would have to do.
He shoved it into the nuke box and hit the reheat button. He hated life as a bachelor. But when he thought about getting married, and having little snot-nosed copies of himself running around...
Okay, maybe life wasn't so bad.
With the soup in one hand, and a can of fizzy sugar water in the other, he strolled into the living room and dropped onto the couch, turning on the one-eyed monster most people called a television. He would probably fall asleep here. Again. He checked his cell phone to make sure that his alarm was on.
Then he looked again, with a frown. Jerry was calling.
His cousin knew his work schedule. Why would Jerry wake him up?
He answered it. "Dude, this had better be good."
"I just got shot at."
He froze. Jerry was about as vanilla as a man could be. Well...these days, anyway. "You run into an old friend?" he asked, setting his soup aside.
"No, someone I've never met. Over on Canby, between fifth and sixth."
Luis rolled his eyes. "Didn't your mom teach you to stay out of that 'hood? Every other house is a drug dealer, and the ones in between are users."
"Yeah, I know. And you'll love what this one was dealing. He had Sadie's meds."
Luis frowned deeply, grabbing his shoes and pulling them on. A tiny bell went off his his head. Just this morning he had gotten a department wide email from the narcotics division. Something was up. Something big, and it involved experimental drugs. How in the world they had known to get them from Sadie, and how Jerry had found out, and...
He suddenly realized why Jerry sounded so anxious. Aside from getting shot at, his family was probably in danger.
"Jerry, call your wife and have her get out of the house. With the kids. Now."
"I already did. I'm not that far gone, man. But the guy that had her meds was chasing me with a .44 caliber and a souped up Honda, so I had to hide. Not sure I dare move from where I'm at."
"Where are you, anyway?"
"In a parking garage, in some kind of condo complex. Can you track my phone?"
Luis checked his map. His cousin had done a Google location share a while back, and luckily, it was still there. "Yes. Sit tight, I'm going to call Stephens and have him pick me up, then we'll come get you. Unmarked car, dark gray blue LeSabre."
"He's still driving that old relic?"
"It was his first trophy, dude. He'll drive it into the ground." Luis checked the clock. He had to be quick to catch the narc detective before he left for the day. "Gotta call him. Just stay put, I'll tell you when we're close."
"Got it. What about Lila?"
"Call her and tell her to go to Georgia's place. I'll call Georgia after Stephens and tell her to get out the 12-gauge and buckshot."
"Okay. Thanks Luis, I really appreciate this."
Luis snorted. "Dude, I got a pretty grim email this morning from the boss. If this is what I think it is, you won't want to thank me later. You may never want to speak to me again."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I'll tell you later. Gotta get moving, and you need to call. See you in a few."
After two quick phone calls, Luis was on the road. His nerves were on edge, worried sick about his cousin. This was no normal drug ring, and if they found Jerry, or Lila and the kids, it could be the worst tragedy their city had seen in years.
He wondered, just as Jerry had, how they had found Sadie. How did they know she had these particular meds? There had to be a snitch in the doctor's office. They had to track him down, and fast, before more patients ended up as victims.
He glanced sideways at Stephens. The detective's face was tight, and his knuckles were white as he shot through town a little faster than his normal, placid pace. "I got the email. But it was kinda vague. What is going on?"
"I'm not at liberty to say. Just...this is more than just a domestic drug ring. The CIA is involved, Homeland Security...these are some really bad guys. Jerry has been through enough, he doesn't need this kind of crap again."
"I know. How in the world did these guys find Sadie?"
"Well, as to that, we think we've pegged one of the janitors in the doctor's office. I've got a guy in there watching him, cameras everywhere...we are close to nailing him. But I want to get video of him talking to his contact in the drug ring. This is big, Luis. Probably the biggest case the department has ever seen."
Luis felt chills down his spine. "What are we going to do about Jerry and Lila?"
"Get them out of here. As quick as we can. You sent them over to Georgia, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay, well, knowing her and Stan, they'll be safe enough for now. I'll get a team together to get them out of town. Your mom still has the farm, right?"
"Yeah, she only lives there in the summer, but she should be there for another month."
"Hope she doesn't mind having company."
"Neh, she loves Jerry's family."
"I meant my boys."
"Oh. Well, so long as they mind their manners. Lila's a brown belt after all."
Stephens chuckled darkly. "They aren't like that. But they can be a bit much, especially when they get trigger-happy."
"Just keep them outside, and the kids inside."
"Right."
Jerry found himself jumping half out of his skin every time someone came into or out of the parking garage. He found himself wishing he had brought more than just his not-quite-legal switchblade with him.
Finally, after nearly half an hour, he heard Luis' familiar voice. He emerged from his dark corner, trying to hide his shaking hands. "Took you long enough."
Luis had his gun out, checking the shadows as he approached. "Yeah, well, we had to do this right. We took a cruise by your client's house, by the way. Car's there again."
"Better than after me," Jerry grunted, pulling his bike over to Gerald Stephens' car. He quickly removed the handlebars and stuffed the whole mess into the trunk, then pulled on a hooded sweatshirt Luis handed him, and hopped into the back seat.
During the ride to the precinct, he told them everything that had happened, doing his best to omit his own speculations. They were hardly necessary. He knew that they would come to the same conclusions he had.
When he finished, he looked in the mirror, just catching Stephens' eye. "So what's going on? Luis said there was some kind of email that might connect to this."
The detective sighed. "If it were anyone else, I'd say nunya business. But this is you, so...I can't tell you much. All I can say is that this is big, and involves the feds."
"How did they find us? How do they know about Sadie?"
"We think we have our guy, as far as that goes. Just collecting evidence now. You have the bottle, right?"
"Yeah. I'm sure it's got my prints all over it now."
Stephens shrugged. "Well, our forensics guys are good. If they can get prints and DNA on your friend in the red Honda, we can nail him to the wall. The only question is whether he is spineless enough to toss his friends under the bus in the process."
Jerry sat back in his seat, closing his eyes. He had thought he had gotten away from all this. It was bringing up some very unpleasant memories.
His phone rang. It was Lila. He answered it. "Hi sweetie, are you guys okay?"
"Yes, we are fine for now, but Sadie is not doing so good. Can I go to the doctor's office and get her a few more meds? He has some samples--"
"No. Don't go to the office. I'll figure something out, but stay away from there."
"Jerry, please. Don't keep me in the dark again. What is going on?"
Jerry glanced at the man in the driver's seat. He just shook his head. Now wasn't the time. "I've been talking to Luis and one of the detectives in the narcotics department. We're trying to figure it out. I don't have a lot of answers for you. Just trust me for now, and I'll explain it as soon as we get some hard data."
"You better not be putting me off, buster."
He shook his head, forgetting she couldn't see him. She was as stubborn as she was beautiful. "Sweetie, believe me, I know better than that. Seriously, this is a bigger tangle than I thought. Just do what Georgia and Stan tell you, okay?"
"I'm not five."
"And this isn't schoolyard bullying, Lila. For once, don't argue. Please."
She sighed. "Okay. I love you, Jerry."
"I love you too."
He hung up and glanced up into the front seat, where the pill bottle was now in an evidence bag. "Any chance I can get one or two of the pills out of there and taken to Lila? Sadie really needs her meds."
"I'll talk to the supervisor about it. We can probably shake some loose in an hour or two. I'll have one of my boys take them over to Georgia's."
It wasn't ideal, but he didn't want to compromise the investigation any more than he likely already had. "Fine. Thanks."
When they reached the precinct, Luis took care of his bike while Stephens brought him into the chief's office. He quickly scratched out a deposition on the situation while the detective practically melted his phone making calls. The bottle was handed off to the forensics team, where the lead tech assured him that they could have a few pills ready to send to Sadie in just a couple of hours.
They still didn't tell him much, but if the feds were involved...maybe a new drug kingpin had moved into town? Maybe this was part of a sting involving international cooperation?
That didn't seem quite right to him. He decided to wait and see what else happened.
More than an hour passed, with him planted in a hard chair, just staring at the ceiling. Everyone else was busy, and he found himself itching to do something. Anything.
But he had left this life behind, and he wasn't sorry. Well...not much, anyway.
Luis had been sent over to Georgia's house with the pills, along with two plainclothes officers, to act as guards for Jerry's family. Luis was told to stay there, since Jerry's kids knew and trusted him, and the chief told him not to worry about his shift.
Jerry found that strange. Chief Nakamura was strict about scheduling. If you called in sick, you had better be dragging you own severed leg behind you as your excuse.
If he were really honest with himself, he was getting tired of the drama. Everyone was so serious about this, like it was some kind of world-ending event. It was another drug ring, on another crusade to make themselves rich and everyone else miserable. Why was everyone so worked up about it?
Shortly after that thought pranced around his head, he got his answer. The door opened, and in walked a man he had fervently prayed he would never see again. The faint, humorless smile on the man's face was familiar, and it sent uncomfortable chills down his spine. Whatever this was, if his old boss was involved, it was big.
"Hello, Jerry."
Jerry managed a smile that was more a sickly grimace. "Hello Todd."
Saturday, July 22, 2017
The Bicycle: Part 1
This is a story that started off as a suggestion from my cohorts on Minetest. "Write a story about a bicycle repairman." So..yeah. Blame them. 😉
Part 1: The Client
Jerry was an average guy. The sort of guy you would pay little or no attention to if you passed him on the street. Just shy of six feet, mousy brown hair, gray blue eyes, wire rimmed glasses, and usually wearing some kind of plaid shirt. He usually rode a bike wherever he went, which was appropriate, given that he was a bicycle repairman.
His job usually gave him a measure of freedom, since he didn't have to take a job if he didn't want to. At least, that's how it used to be. He would spend his days alternating between quick bike jobs, and playing with his three young children. His wife also took odd jobs as a seamstress, and their combined income would let them go on quick excursions in the mountains around their city.
But these days, he took any work that came to him. No matter what it was, or where it took him. Sadie's life depended on it.
His latest job took him to the poorer side of town. It wasn't exactly crime-ridden, but it was the sort of place that made him want to be long gone by nightfall. The client was very insistent that he come today, without fail.
When he arrived at the house, he paused in the middle of locking up his bike. Something wasn't right here. The house looked no different than any other on the street. Old, peeling paint, mostly brown lawn with a few half-dead bushes and trees.
But the car sitting in the driveway...it was brand new, and certainly not an economy model. He continued locking up his bike, eyes running over the bright cherry red Honda with custom rims and a spoiler on the back. This was a car decked out for racing.
So what did his client need with a bike? And why on earth wasn't such a nice car parked in the garage?
The man had noticed his arrival, and motioned him in through a side door into the garage. The moment he entered, he got his answer, and his anxiety grew. There were hundreds of expensive items in here. Far more than any one man would need. Plasma TVs, expensive speaker systems, blu-ray players, laptop computers, cell phones, and enough cords to go to the moon and back.
In the back, a tiny alarm bell went off. He guessed that all this stuff was likely stolen. Unless he was some kind of online wholesaler, but in those cases, the items were still in the package. He didn't see any packages on anything.
But this was not the time to throw accusations around. The man had something protruding from his waistband that looked suspiciously like a .44 caliber. Definitely not smart to say anything right now.
Against one wall was a row of bikes. High-end brands, all with multiple customizations. One of them was pulled out into the center of the room, with a snapped chain and a badly bent rim.
"Can you fix it?" the client asked roughly.
He nodded, pulling his toolbag off of his back and opening it. "I'll need to make a run to the shop to get another rim, but--"
"No, I have one right here," the man said, pulling one from off of a high shelf. "I just need it fixed. Today. Now. Just use the old tube and tire, they are still in one piece."
He doubted that, given the amount of damage to the rim, but he didn't want to argue. He would just have to note on the invoice that it was the client's idea to use potentially damaged parts.
He started with the chain. He carried some spares in his bag, and it wasn't terribly difficult to remove the old one and put the new one on. He carefully lubed it and checked the tension. Perfect. He found himself coveting this bike. It was beautiful, and obviously well loved based on the heavy polish smell and hand-painted detail on the frame.
In the back of his mind, he couldn't help wondering if the owner was still looking for it, or had given up. From the heavy beer-gut on his client, he doubted this man had ridden anything with two wheels in his life.
He set the old rim aside, and started to fit the tube and tire into place on the new one. The tire was also an expensive brand, insulated to resist punctures. It was stiffer than what he was used to, and so it was a bit of a struggle.
His eyes ran over the old rim as he worked. It looked to him like the bike had been hit by a car. "Did you report the car that hit you to the police?" he ventured.
"No. It was an accident. Just fix it," the client barked.
There was no doubt in Jerry's mind that something was wrong. But he couldn't figure out what. He made a show of struggling with the tube and tire further, hoping that his client would be called away for whatever reason.
As though a divine hand had intervened, he heard the ring of a telephone inside the house. He suppressed a smirk. Who still used landlines these days? Whatever the reason, the man hurried into the house to answer it, with the door not quite closing behind him.
Once he was out of site, Jerry started examining the bike and the tube more closely. It seemed strange to him that the man didn't want him to install a new one. What was he up to?
A second later, he got his answer. There was a hard lump inside of the tube, and it was obviously patched. He felt it over with his hands. It felt like a pill bottle.
A drug runner. He felt sick. His cousin Luis worked for the police department. Maybe a quiet nudge...
He felt it again. The instinct that something was very wrong, and he had to act. With the precision of a surgeon, he slit open the bike tube and removed the bottle, stowing it in his jacket for later examination. He repaired the tube and got it back into the tire, replaced it on the rim, and installed it on the bike.
He could hear the man's voice inside the house. It sounded like an argument. "Fifty ain't nearly enough. This is pharma grade, uncut, straight from the manufacturer. I want a hundred."
Dollars? Or was this man talking thousands? What in the world was in this pill bottle?
Whatever it was, he had to get out fast and get to a safe place to examine it closer. He knew that he would be getting his prints all over it, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.
By the time the man had come back out to the garage, he had his pump out and was pumping up the tire. "Any trouble?" the man asked warily.
He shrugged as he capped the stem. "Nope. It's a nice bike. Tube seems to be holding air, so you should be good to go."
"Good. How much?"
"Let's call it thirty-five."
To his surprise, the man didn't argue. He pulled two twenties from his pocket and handed it over to Jerry with a gruff "keep the change".
"Well...um, thank you. Have a good one." He deliberately kept his voice light and unconcerned, packing up his tools with what he hoped was a casual air, though his skin felt like it was crawling. He was desperate to be out of there.
Fortunately, the man seemed equally desperate to be rid of him. As soon as his pack was zipped, the man pulled open the door and stood beside it, very obviously a dismissal.
Jerry nodded to him with a friendly smile. "Bye now." The door closed with a bang behind him. He unlocked his bike, shoved the lock into his pocket, and rode out onto the street as quickly as he could.
He wasn't sure where he would go next. Luis' house, probably. His cousin worked graveyard shifts, so he was likely home.
In his pocket, his cell phone started to ring. It was the custom ringtone for his wife. At the same time, he heard a shout behind him.
Rising up, he pumped his pedals as fast as he could. The man was screaming now and chasing him. He decided his wife's call would have to wait. He raced toward the corner where traffic was heavier, hoping to lose the man in the rush of cars.
Then, he heard a loud crack behind him. There was a faint whistling noise by his ear.
His client was shooting at him.
He started weaving erratically, hoping that the man was a miserable shot. Luck was with him. He heard three more shots in quick succession, and saw patches of pavement explode in front of him, but none of the bullets hit him.
His phone rang again. He sped around the corner and up the street, guiding his bike into the lanes of traffic. He could hear the revving of an engine behind him. His client was coming after him with the Honda.
He decided he had to answer. Lila wouldn't keep calling unless it was something important. He pulled it from his pocket and answered. "Hi, sweetie, this really isn't a good--"
"Sadie's medicine is gone!" came his wife's frantic voice.
He felt as though his breath had been knocked out of him. How in the world...how could they have known...and was his family in danger now?
He wasn't positive that the bottle in his pocket was actually his daughter's medicine. But something, be it Fate, intuition, or sheer luck, seemed to be involved in this.
He ducked in and out between cars as the red Honda did likewise. At least his client seemed to have set his gun aside for the moment.
He managed a last-second maneuver that sent his bike careening into an alley. The Honda missed the move, and he heard the screech of brakes and horns honking. He yanked his handlebars into another turn toward a nearby street, hoping the Honda wouldn't see him.
He realized his wife was calling his name. "Lila, this is going to sound weird, but...get the kids in the car, grab an overnight bag, and get out of the house. Go...somewhere. Anywhere, just get away from the house. Somewhere miles away."
"Jerry, what is going on?" she demanded.
"Honey, to be honest, I'm not totally sure. Just...trust me. I'm going to call Luis."
"Jerry, this is totally weird. Where are you? I can hear cars honking. Have you been in an accident?"
He glanced into the mirror on his handle. Of all the rotten luck, the Honda was behind him again and rapidly approaching through the lanes of traffic.
"Not yet, but if I have to bike and talk I will be. Please, just go. Do as I tell you. I'll call you as soon as I can."
He hung up his cell and focused on the road ahead. He could see orange cones, and flashing yellow lights. A construction zone. Perfect...
The cars would have to slow down, as the road narrowed to a single lane. On a bike, he could blast through no trouble.
He just managed the delicate weave between cars, piles of dirt, orange barrels, and startled workers. Once he made it to the other side, he pedaled as fast as his bike would go, dodging once more between angry drivers, until he had put a little distance between himself, and the Honda.
He waited until a large box truck was blocking the view of the murderous Honda driver, and whipped into a condo complex, ducking into the underground parking structure. Once he had found a dark corner to tuck himself into, he hopped off of his bike, yanked open his jacket, and pulled out the pill bottle.
He looked at the label, dark certainty clutching at him. There it was, plain as day. "Sadie Laurence."
The questions hit him again. How in the world had the thieves known to target his home? How had they gotten in?
The real question, whether his family was now in danger, was no question at all. Even if the thieves didn't know Sadie was his daughter, they would be after more of these pills. They would return to steal again. He would have to make sure an appropriate welcoming committee was waiting.
But why? Why had they stolen the pills in the first place? What did they want with them?
Sadie was five years old, but she was roughly the size of a two year old. His wife had struggled all through the pregnancy, and Sadie had made her grand entrance into the world two months early. She had major health issues from the second she was born, but it had taken three years to find out why. Little Sadie had a rare genetic mutation that caused severe atrophy and slow growth. There were a few medications on the market that helped a little, but not enough. Her doctors had predicted she wouldn't survive to adulthood.
Then, a new experimental drug made its debut on the market. It had come seemingly out of nowhere, her doctors all stunned that this medicine, absolutely perfect for Sadie, had appeared just when she needed it. Because it was still in trials, it was horrifically expensive. Almost a thousand dollars per pill. After several long bouts of paperwork and phone calls, she had been accepted into a special trial program, with the pharmaceutical company was only charging them a thousand per one-month supply. All they had to do was give the company full access to Sadie's records and tests.
The one drawback: she had become dependent on the medicine.
If she missed even one dose, her vitals would drop significantly. She would struggle for breath, and her little heart would race. Without this medicine, she could die within days.
And these cretins had stolen it from her. For something as crude as money.
His fear was replaced by anger. He yanked out his cell phone, quickly tapping his cousin's number. He vowed that they were not going to get away with it.
Part 1: The Client
Jerry was an average guy. The sort of guy you would pay little or no attention to if you passed him on the street. Just shy of six feet, mousy brown hair, gray blue eyes, wire rimmed glasses, and usually wearing some kind of plaid shirt. He usually rode a bike wherever he went, which was appropriate, given that he was a bicycle repairman.
His job usually gave him a measure of freedom, since he didn't have to take a job if he didn't want to. At least, that's how it used to be. He would spend his days alternating between quick bike jobs, and playing with his three young children. His wife also took odd jobs as a seamstress, and their combined income would let them go on quick excursions in the mountains around their city.
But these days, he took any work that came to him. No matter what it was, or where it took him. Sadie's life depended on it.
His latest job took him to the poorer side of town. It wasn't exactly crime-ridden, but it was the sort of place that made him want to be long gone by nightfall. The client was very insistent that he come today, without fail.
When he arrived at the house, he paused in the middle of locking up his bike. Something wasn't right here. The house looked no different than any other on the street. Old, peeling paint, mostly brown lawn with a few half-dead bushes and trees.
But the car sitting in the driveway...it was brand new, and certainly not an economy model. He continued locking up his bike, eyes running over the bright cherry red Honda with custom rims and a spoiler on the back. This was a car decked out for racing.
So what did his client need with a bike? And why on earth wasn't such a nice car parked in the garage?
The man had noticed his arrival, and motioned him in through a side door into the garage. The moment he entered, he got his answer, and his anxiety grew. There were hundreds of expensive items in here. Far more than any one man would need. Plasma TVs, expensive speaker systems, blu-ray players, laptop computers, cell phones, and enough cords to go to the moon and back.
In the back, a tiny alarm bell went off. He guessed that all this stuff was likely stolen. Unless he was some kind of online wholesaler, but in those cases, the items were still in the package. He didn't see any packages on anything.
But this was not the time to throw accusations around. The man had something protruding from his waistband that looked suspiciously like a .44 caliber. Definitely not smart to say anything right now.
Against one wall was a row of bikes. High-end brands, all with multiple customizations. One of them was pulled out into the center of the room, with a snapped chain and a badly bent rim.
"Can you fix it?" the client asked roughly.
He nodded, pulling his toolbag off of his back and opening it. "I'll need to make a run to the shop to get another rim, but--"
"No, I have one right here," the man said, pulling one from off of a high shelf. "I just need it fixed. Today. Now. Just use the old tube and tire, they are still in one piece."
He doubted that, given the amount of damage to the rim, but he didn't want to argue. He would just have to note on the invoice that it was the client's idea to use potentially damaged parts.
He started with the chain. He carried some spares in his bag, and it wasn't terribly difficult to remove the old one and put the new one on. He carefully lubed it and checked the tension. Perfect. He found himself coveting this bike. It was beautiful, and obviously well loved based on the heavy polish smell and hand-painted detail on the frame.
In the back of his mind, he couldn't help wondering if the owner was still looking for it, or had given up. From the heavy beer-gut on his client, he doubted this man had ridden anything with two wheels in his life.
He set the old rim aside, and started to fit the tube and tire into place on the new one. The tire was also an expensive brand, insulated to resist punctures. It was stiffer than what he was used to, and so it was a bit of a struggle.
His eyes ran over the old rim as he worked. It looked to him like the bike had been hit by a car. "Did you report the car that hit you to the police?" he ventured.
"No. It was an accident. Just fix it," the client barked.
There was no doubt in Jerry's mind that something was wrong. But he couldn't figure out what. He made a show of struggling with the tube and tire further, hoping that his client would be called away for whatever reason.
As though a divine hand had intervened, he heard the ring of a telephone inside the house. He suppressed a smirk. Who still used landlines these days? Whatever the reason, the man hurried into the house to answer it, with the door not quite closing behind him.
Once he was out of site, Jerry started examining the bike and the tube more closely. It seemed strange to him that the man didn't want him to install a new one. What was he up to?
A second later, he got his answer. There was a hard lump inside of the tube, and it was obviously patched. He felt it over with his hands. It felt like a pill bottle.
A drug runner. He felt sick. His cousin Luis worked for the police department. Maybe a quiet nudge...
He felt it again. The instinct that something was very wrong, and he had to act. With the precision of a surgeon, he slit open the bike tube and removed the bottle, stowing it in his jacket for later examination. He repaired the tube and got it back into the tire, replaced it on the rim, and installed it on the bike.
He could hear the man's voice inside the house. It sounded like an argument. "Fifty ain't nearly enough. This is pharma grade, uncut, straight from the manufacturer. I want a hundred."
Dollars? Or was this man talking thousands? What in the world was in this pill bottle?
Whatever it was, he had to get out fast and get to a safe place to examine it closer. He knew that he would be getting his prints all over it, but his curiosity was getting the better of him.
By the time the man had come back out to the garage, he had his pump out and was pumping up the tire. "Any trouble?" the man asked warily.
He shrugged as he capped the stem. "Nope. It's a nice bike. Tube seems to be holding air, so you should be good to go."
"Good. How much?"
"Let's call it thirty-five."
To his surprise, the man didn't argue. He pulled two twenties from his pocket and handed it over to Jerry with a gruff "keep the change".
"Well...um, thank you. Have a good one." He deliberately kept his voice light and unconcerned, packing up his tools with what he hoped was a casual air, though his skin felt like it was crawling. He was desperate to be out of there.
Fortunately, the man seemed equally desperate to be rid of him. As soon as his pack was zipped, the man pulled open the door and stood beside it, very obviously a dismissal.
Jerry nodded to him with a friendly smile. "Bye now." The door closed with a bang behind him. He unlocked his bike, shoved the lock into his pocket, and rode out onto the street as quickly as he could.
He wasn't sure where he would go next. Luis' house, probably. His cousin worked graveyard shifts, so he was likely home.
In his pocket, his cell phone started to ring. It was the custom ringtone for his wife. At the same time, he heard a shout behind him.
Rising up, he pumped his pedals as fast as he could. The man was screaming now and chasing him. He decided his wife's call would have to wait. He raced toward the corner where traffic was heavier, hoping to lose the man in the rush of cars.
Then, he heard a loud crack behind him. There was a faint whistling noise by his ear.
His client was shooting at him.
He started weaving erratically, hoping that the man was a miserable shot. Luck was with him. He heard three more shots in quick succession, and saw patches of pavement explode in front of him, but none of the bullets hit him.
His phone rang again. He sped around the corner and up the street, guiding his bike into the lanes of traffic. He could hear the revving of an engine behind him. His client was coming after him with the Honda.
He decided he had to answer. Lila wouldn't keep calling unless it was something important. He pulled it from his pocket and answered. "Hi, sweetie, this really isn't a good--"
"Sadie's medicine is gone!" came his wife's frantic voice.
He felt as though his breath had been knocked out of him. How in the world...how could they have known...and was his family in danger now?
He wasn't positive that the bottle in his pocket was actually his daughter's medicine. But something, be it Fate, intuition, or sheer luck, seemed to be involved in this.
He ducked in and out between cars as the red Honda did likewise. At least his client seemed to have set his gun aside for the moment.
He managed a last-second maneuver that sent his bike careening into an alley. The Honda missed the move, and he heard the screech of brakes and horns honking. He yanked his handlebars into another turn toward a nearby street, hoping the Honda wouldn't see him.
He realized his wife was calling his name. "Lila, this is going to sound weird, but...get the kids in the car, grab an overnight bag, and get out of the house. Go...somewhere. Anywhere, just get away from the house. Somewhere miles away."
"Jerry, what is going on?" she demanded.
"Honey, to be honest, I'm not totally sure. Just...trust me. I'm going to call Luis."
"Jerry, this is totally weird. Where are you? I can hear cars honking. Have you been in an accident?"
He glanced into the mirror on his handle. Of all the rotten luck, the Honda was behind him again and rapidly approaching through the lanes of traffic.
"Not yet, but if I have to bike and talk I will be. Please, just go. Do as I tell you. I'll call you as soon as I can."
He hung up his cell and focused on the road ahead. He could see orange cones, and flashing yellow lights. A construction zone. Perfect...
The cars would have to slow down, as the road narrowed to a single lane. On a bike, he could blast through no trouble.
He just managed the delicate weave between cars, piles of dirt, orange barrels, and startled workers. Once he made it to the other side, he pedaled as fast as his bike would go, dodging once more between angry drivers, until he had put a little distance between himself, and the Honda.
He waited until a large box truck was blocking the view of the murderous Honda driver, and whipped into a condo complex, ducking into the underground parking structure. Once he had found a dark corner to tuck himself into, he hopped off of his bike, yanked open his jacket, and pulled out the pill bottle.
He looked at the label, dark certainty clutching at him. There it was, plain as day. "Sadie Laurence."
The questions hit him again. How in the world had the thieves known to target his home? How had they gotten in?
The real question, whether his family was now in danger, was no question at all. Even if the thieves didn't know Sadie was his daughter, they would be after more of these pills. They would return to steal again. He would have to make sure an appropriate welcoming committee was waiting.
But why? Why had they stolen the pills in the first place? What did they want with them?
Sadie was five years old, but she was roughly the size of a two year old. His wife had struggled all through the pregnancy, and Sadie had made her grand entrance into the world two months early. She had major health issues from the second she was born, but it had taken three years to find out why. Little Sadie had a rare genetic mutation that caused severe atrophy and slow growth. There were a few medications on the market that helped a little, but not enough. Her doctors had predicted she wouldn't survive to adulthood.
Then, a new experimental drug made its debut on the market. It had come seemingly out of nowhere, her doctors all stunned that this medicine, absolutely perfect for Sadie, had appeared just when she needed it. Because it was still in trials, it was horrifically expensive. Almost a thousand dollars per pill. After several long bouts of paperwork and phone calls, she had been accepted into a special trial program, with the pharmaceutical company was only charging them a thousand per one-month supply. All they had to do was give the company full access to Sadie's records and tests.
The one drawback: she had become dependent on the medicine.
If she missed even one dose, her vitals would drop significantly. She would struggle for breath, and her little heart would race. Without this medicine, she could die within days.
And these cretins had stolen it from her. For something as crude as money.
His fear was replaced by anger. He yanked out his cell phone, quickly tapping his cousin's number. He vowed that they were not going to get away with it.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
The Rose
The Rose
Rain
Dripping, drizzling, soaking every square inch of the cracked, weedy sidewalk. Along with anyone unlucky enough to be out in it.
I shuffled along the sidewalk, stepping over muddy puddles here and there, cursing the power outage that had not only cost me hours at work, but had also spoiled most of the contents of my refrigerator.
I thought of the plans I had made for my mother’s birthday. Ruined, now that I had lost a full day’s pay, and had to spend a king’s ransom on groceries.
Rain, rain, go away…
I turned up my collar and pulled my hat down a little tighter as the rain picked up, seemingly out of spite. Whatever did I do to deserve this?
I glanced around the street, littered with garbage. Most of the other residents had driven their functional cars to other parts of the city, which still had power. The vehicles that remained hadn’t moved in months, their tires sagging to the pavement and buried in weeds, giving the appearance that the cars themselves had taken root in the sorry excuse for asphalt on the street’s surface. Oil oozed from under some of these cars, creating a nasty puddle that could very quickly destroy perfectly good shoes on the unwary traveler.
Down the street I heard the ear-rending trill of a school bell, sending a barrage of pint-sized banshees squealing out into the rain for a small gasp of freedom between lessons. All too soon, the bell would scream again, sending them back into their dark, dismal classrooms to have more truth, knowledge, and utter nonsense pounded into their little skulls by overworked, underpaid, exhausted instructors. I could almost hear the vaguely comforting mantra they whispered every few minutes.
Two more months. Two more months.
April showers were supposed to bring May flowers, but so far, all this storm had brought was gray, depressing mud.
It wasn’t like there were a lot of flowers to be seen on Pocatello street anyway. Hardly anyone bothered with them.
Ahead of me I heard raised voices as a husband banged out the door, his wife chasing after him. He had a briefcase in hand, his hair hurriedly shoved into place as he scuttled to his yellow Neon. “I have to go now, I’m already late! Stupid alarm clock…” he cursed under his breath as his fumbling hands dropped his keys into a puddle.
“Honey, please, all I’m asking is for a little help here,” she pleaded, holding her jacket tightly around her slender frame. “Just...could you paint the fence this weekend? That’s all I ask.”
He glanced at the peeling fence that surrounded their house, one of the few with a small yard, with grass and weeds and little else. He then looked around the street, and grunted.
“No one else does,” he snapped. “Why should we bother?”
“What does it say about us if we don’t care?” she rejoined tartly. “And what would it say if we at least made an effort?” she pressed.
“It says we like wasting money and time,” he responded in a snide tone. He tossed his briefcase into the car and slid in. “I have to work late tonight on the project. Don’t wait up.”
He revved the engine and screeched out of his parking place. From the desperate look on the wife’s face, I figured I knew just what this “project” was. I wondered what she looked like. Blond, brunette, redhead…
The wife turned, glancing briefly at me, then hurried back into the house. She slammed the door behind her, but not before I heard a muffled sob.
I just shook my head and continued walking. This place had never looked more ugly.
The rain was finally starting to abate. But it continued to drip from the leaves of the scraggly gingko trees that lined the street, a few starting to show the pale yellow green of spring. A particularly large drop landed square on the back of my neck, making me shudder.
A few houses further down, I stopped. I looked up. This house was abandoned, like so many others in the city. The bank that now owned it had at least had the sense to board up the windows and doors. The roof was missing some shingles, and I couldn’t help but wonder how moldy the inside was. This was a Victorian, crafted with care so many decades ago. Now, its hand carved wood and inlaid tiles were left to rot. The structure seemed to be in good repair, but not for long.
My attention was drawn to something on one side of the gate. It was a rosebush. And rising up from the mildewy leaves, as if in defiance of the state of disrepair around it, was a single, delicate, pink rosebud.
I came closer, staring at that one little rose. Its twin, on the other side of the walk, had long ago succumbed to mold and boring insects. This bush looked not far behind. But in its own small way, it continued to try, continued to fight for life.
As I came nearer, I noticed a few tiny green insects crawling about on the rose. Aphids. My mother had declared war on these nasty creatures in my growing up years in the suburbs. Between her constant vigilance, and the plethora of ladybugs she released every other year, aphids were a rarity anywhere in our neighborhood.
A strange surge of emotion ran up my neck. I was angry. I reached out with one gloved hand and started brushing away the insects. This rose was the one thing of beauty I had seen this entire morning. I couldn’t let the aphids so carelessly destroy it. I was determined to save it.
“Oh, that won’t work. They’ll just come back.”
I turned to see someone standing behind me. It was a woman, in a long gray raincoat, with a small bag in her hand. A single shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and shimmered on her raven hair, her red lips curved in a smile of amusement as she watched my vain ministrations.
I found myself utterly speechless. She looked like an angel, a guardian sent to the aid of one tiny, pitiful pink rose. Stepping back, I watched as she approached the bush and drew out a small bottle from her bag.
I recognized that bottle, and couldn’t help smiling. My mother usually preferred natural remedies for garden pests. But every once in a blue moon, she would use a chemical treatment when one of her beloved plants faced a serious threat. The bottle this woman carried was aphid powder.
Pulling back the safety cap, she lightly tapped the bottle, sprinkling a generous dusting over the rose. I could almost hear the aphids’ squeals of horror as they fled the Armageddon that was being rained down on their hideous heads.
She capped the bottle again, and replaced it in her bag. “I’ve been watching this bush. It must have been so beautiful once. It’s sad. But...it wants to live. I know it does. I’m trying to help it.” She glanced at me with a blush on her cheeks that made my knees weak. “Does that make me sound crazy?” she asked in a small voice.
“N-no. No. Not at all, not in the least,” I stammered, trying desperately to get hold of my voice and my wits. I managed a rueful smile of my own. “After all, I was trying to brush the little buggers off with my hands.”
She laughed at that, and that laugh penetrated every fiber of my being.
“I was so glad to see the rain this morning,” she said, making me wonder at her sanity. “We’ve been in a drought you know, and the plants around here don’t get watered much.”
“Yeah. I was just thinking about the rain,” I said, wisely refraining from giving her the context of my thoughts. I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty that I had been hating the rain that was so badly needed by so many things in this big, uncaring city.
“I have to get to work now,” she said, with a strangely wistful tone. “I just moved here, and I really need to keep my boss happy. But I’ll be back tomorrow to see how it’s doing.”
“Sure. Great. I’ll bring some pruners for the dead wood.”
I had no idea where that had come from. I didn’t even own pruners. But I swore by every power that existed that I would comb the whole county for pruners if I had to.
Her smile widened. “Wonderful! I would hate to see this rose die. It’s so pretty.”
Then she turned, and walked away. But the warmth of her smile stayed with me, enveloping my entire body.
Or maybe that was the sun. It had finally chased away enough of the clouds to show just a bit of blue sky. A bit that was rapidly expanding. I glanced at the old house, making note of the name of the bank manager in charge of that property. Maybe. Just maybe...
I continued on my way down the street, lifting my head and looking around. The trees were stretching their limbs up to the sky, their green leaves reveling in the life-giving sunshine. The rainwater sparkled on the roadway, looking like a thousand tiny diamonds. The light cast rainbows over the oil puddles, shimmering with a hundred different hues. Down the street, I could hear the happy laughter of children as they ran about the playground, balls thumping rhythmically on the blacktop in their games, the whap of a tetherball being struck by an eager hand, the creak of the chains on the swingset.
I noticed a car approaching, and watched interestedly as the yellow Neon returned to its spot in front of the house. The wife came out on the porch, her reddened eyes widening as her husband emerged from the car.
In his hands were a dozen red roses, and a large heart-shaped box that was most likely candy.
I drew back discreetly behind a tree and watched, listening to their conversation.
“Honey, is everything okay? Why are you home?”
He laughed a little. “The customer called while I was driving. They are changing all of the requirements, so I have nothing to do until they get us the changes. And…Happy Anniversary, my darling. I took the day off so we can be together.”
She threw herself into his arms, clinging tightly to him as he pulled her into his embrace. I felt a bit of remorse for having judged him so badly. With the recession so fresh in everyone’s memory, was it any wonder he was so stressed about his job?
The two pulled back, making plans for a late brunch at a trendy restaurant in the up and coming neighborhood five streets over. Then, after handing her the flowers and candy, he reached back into his car and pulled out a can of white paint and two brushes.
“Now that it’s stopped raining, and I have a day off… care to help me? We can let things dry while we eat, then come back and get started.”
“Of course, honey. And maybe we can plant some roses?”
Their conversation faded as they went into the house in search of a vase. I continued on my walk down the street, taking a deep breath of rain-washed air. Soon enough summer would come, its heat baking the sidewalk, radiating off of buildings, slowly broiling everything in sight.
A bird started singing from its nest in a nearby tree. I could see just a few buds on that tree, a rare flowering pear amongst the gingkos. A light spring breeze rustled awnings of a store across the street, sending a shower of glittering raindrops flying into the air.
Pocatello street had never looked more beautiful.
With love,
Aria
With love,
Aria
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