Avenger of Blood
Ryan Callaway
Copyright 2008 by Ryan Callaway
Smashwords Edition
The Avenger of Blood himself shall slay the murderer, when he meets him, he shall slay him.
Numbers 35:19
Bioweapon
1
“She’s not dead, is she?”
“Not yet,” the male nurse replied, glancing up at his coworker.
“What happened?” She asked, her eyes glued to the prone body resting atop the stretcher. She squinted and examined the middle aged woman’s face. Though she was unconscious, her eyebrows were scrunched and her lips parted to show clenched teeth. Her face and curly brown-gray hair were drenched in a clear liquid. It had already soaked the sheet under and around her head. “Fred?”
“She came in complaining that she couldn’t breathe well.” Fred shook his head. “Three minutes ago she started perspiring profusely—passed out when she came out of triage. She was burning up a fever in there. 104.”
“Excuse me,” a black woman sitting among the patients in the waiting area spoke up. “Can you guys get things moving back there before the rest of us pass out?”
Some of the others voiced similar sentiments. A few looked too worn or in too much pain to pitch in, even if it was obvious that they wanted to. They leaned on the shoulders of whoever had accompanied them, sweating and sporting miserable expressions on their faces. Those who were alone were hunched over their knees, heads down.
“We’re doing all that we can, folks.” The female nurse held her hands up. “As quickly as we can, but we have to be efficient, and we have to be careful.” She nodded to Fred, and he immediately pushed the unconscious woman toward the double doors leading to the E.R. “Check the rest of her vitals and consult Dr. Chase. The whole city’s going to be in here by tomorrow morning at this rate.”
“We need to talk, Brenda,” a fair skinned Asian woman stepped forward. She stopped an arm’s length away and slightly lowered her head. “And maybe that situation can be avoided.”
Brenda gave a nervous smile and returned the bow while extending her right hand. “Good evening Detective Miyoshi. Nice to see you as always.”
Miyoshi had managed to blend in with the civilians until she spoke. Brenda didn’t seem to have noticed her standing in the corner. She wore a jacket and jeans, both matching black denim. The jacket, perhaps a size or two larger than she needed, concealed her petite frame. She stood at 5’2”, about four inches shorter than Brenda. Her wide, light brown, almond shaped eyes were sometimes piercing, and often made up for her lack of stature. She firmly shook the nurse’s hand and said, “My pleasure.”
“It’s been rough tonight,” Brenda said, glancing over Miyoshi’s shoulder at the room full of sickly patients. Some glared back at her. “How can I help you?”
“I’m here on police business officially, but I also wanted to check on my roommate Cassandra Farrington. I brought her here on my way back to work after a lunch break. She was coughing up a storm. And she was very warm—complaining about the heat and sweating in a 65 degree apartment. I’m assuming she’s still here?”
“Yes, I’ll take you to her right now.” Brenda turned and walked into the E.R. with the detective close behind. The hallway was crowded. Patients sat in chairs or laid on gurneys against the walls on both sides. Whatever loved one had accompanied them stood or sat in chairs nearby. Some glared at Brenda and whoever else happened to go by. Friendly faces for the staff tonight, I guess, Kana noted.
“Didn’t know you had a roommate,” Brenda said. “She joins the not so exclusive club today. There are 49 patients exhibiting similar symptoms. All arrived within the last eleven hours and it’s been hectic as you can probably see. Dozens of complaints and threats and two incidents of physical violence. Worst of all, the night is still young.”
“Lourdes is the best,” Miyoshi replied. “That’s why I brought Cassandra here. Just stay strong.”
“Thanks Kana, I appreciate that.” Brenda stopped next to a closed door and pointed to the square window in its center. “One of our doctors reported in for work this afternoon and went down bad.”
Miyoshi peeked inside. A man lied on his side in the bed facing the door. His eyes were closed and the lower part of his face was covered by a mask. It was connected by wire to a large machine on the table beside his bed. A white band attached to the top of the mask had been wrapped around his head, right above the ears.
“James resuscitated an eight year old girl through CPR yesterday. Her family and the staff called him a hero.” Brenda shook her head, her eyes growing tender. “Now his own life is maintained by a mechanical ventilator. He showed the typical symptoms and suffered respiratory failure two hours ago. We made an unofficial diagnosis, which I’m assuming is what may have brought you here.”
“Affirmative.” Kana followed her across the hall to another closed door. “The other three hospitals in the city are filled with patients who checked in during the last ten to eleven hours. Besides whatever happened here – there have been 12 incidents of violence thus far.”
Brenda started to push the door open and paused, leaving it open a crack. She looked back to the detective, her expression dark. “So what conclusion have you come to? If it’s not classified.”
“We haven’t reached one that we like. The one answer that really fits scares me. We’re thinking that Minikin Capital may have fallen victim to a biochemical warfare agent within the last 24 hours.”
“Man. This can’t just be some nasty bug?”
“We both know the answer is no. And I was hoping you could provide some specific suggestions as to what it may be.”
“I think it’s Ricin, although—”
“That my girl Kana’s voice I hear?” A weak woman’s voice called through the doorway.
Brenda opened the door and moved inside, holding it open for the detective. Kana thanked her and stepped into the medium sized room. Besides the usual hospital appliances and machines, a television monitor attached to the upper wall overlooked a bed in the floor’s center. Lying back on the bed was Cassandra, Miyoshi’s roommate of two years. Her purple and black hair was disheveled and spread out under her head. As expected, there were sweat stains on the bed sheet but she appeared dry. Her blue eyes were narrowed tiredly. She watched Kana come to her side and smiled, showing all her teeth.
“Hiya Cassie.” Kana giggled, taking her hand in both of hers. “I know you said not to worry about you but I had to see you.”
“Can’t keep yourself away, huh?” Cassie teased. “Even though you’re going to get married, move out, and forget all about little old me.”
“That’ll never happen.” Kana squeezed her hand. “How are you feeling Cass?”
“Same as I look.” She shrugged. To Kana, she didn’t look bad. “Whatever that means. I’ve gone through 12 cartons of orange juice and they have me on all sorts of fluids. Still ain’t working. I’m thirsty as a vampire in a desert.”
“Cass… sickness isn’t an excuse for remarks like that. What does a vampire have to do with a desert? Or do I want to know?”
“Probably not.”
“As for the thirst, the I.V. is there doing its job. You just relax and try not to talk too much. I’ll be here for you tonight.”
“You don’t have to miss work for me. Joe said he’d be here soon. I doubt he’ll stick around for the whole night, but…”
“I want to be here for you.”
“Look, someone has to pay my half of the rent next week. We both know it won’t be me. Anyway, I’ll be fine. You know I wouldn’t let some little flu beat me. Though I will gladly take the opportunity to get more sleep.”
The room was quiet for a moment. Cassandra’s eyes were closed and her lips pursed. Kana opened her mouth to speak when Cassie quietly called her name. “Kana?”
“Yes Cassandra?”
“Don’t you call me Cassandra. Kana… please don’t leave me alone tonight. I’m scared—and thirsty. I’m afraid that… I’m afraid to be by myself.”
“I’ll be here tonight. I may have to go back to the department but you won’t spend the night alone. I promise.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you remember how soon Joe said he’d show up? Knowing him, he meant it biblically. ‘A day with Joe is as a week or two,’ as you say.”
Cassandra remained silent, her eyes still closed. Her stomach raised and lowered upon each shallow breath. Kana’s head began to fill with dozens of unpleasant thoughts. What if Cassie ended up staying in the hospital for weeks? Or what if she got worse and had to go on the respirator like James? For that matter, there was the possibility of her never coming home. No one had died yet, but with the way things were going… it seemed like a matter of time.
“Cassie?” Kana shook her hand gently.
“She’s sleep.” Brenda placed her hands on Kana’s shoulders. “And better off. The more she talks the more difficult her respiration becomes.”
“It’s okay that she just passed out like that?”
“Sure—she’s been in and out all day,” Brenda said. She sighed. “I think it’s Ricin. When I examined her I heard crackling at the end of each breath through my stethoscope. Pulmonary edema. 34 of the other 49 had it as well.”
Kana’s eyes returned to the still face of her unconscious friend. She silently prayed that her immune system and the medical staff would succeed in fighting off the sickness.
“She’s been experiencing diaphoresis – which has contributed to her water and electrolyte loss. She was crying from the pain but a Tylenol dropped the level from eight out of ten to three. Fortunately, she’s a strong girl. Hanging in there.”
“Please do all that you can.” Kana leaned over Cassandra’s face and pressed her lips against her warm, damp forehead. “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to her.”
“We’ll do our best and nothing less, Miyoshi. For now the plan is to continue supporting her fluids. She hasn’t been getting worse like some—so I’m confident she’ll pull through.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s what we do. And I like Cassie. Let’s leave her in peace for a moment, okay?”
Kana nodded, and after running her hand through Cassandra’s hair, followed Brenda into the hallway. Brenda closed the door behind them and crossed her arms over her chest. She frowned and surveyed the frantic scene outside. It was a far cry from the quiet calm inside Cassandra’s room. Kana took the opportunity to wipe the tears under her eyes away. Have to remember I’m here for business, too. She cleared her throat.
“So, what is Ricin?” She asked.
“It’s a poison that’s made from the waste left over during Castor oil production,” Brenda explained, thoughtfully rubbing her chin. She spoke slow, her eyes squinted as if she were trying hard to remember. “It works by inhibiting protein synthesis—basically killing off the cells.”
“It has to be made, huh? So this wasn’t some type of an accident if it is Ricin.”
“Oh no. It’s relatively easy to make but… at the rate people are coming in showing symptoms, there’s no way this is an accident.”
“How are the people being infected?”
“Most likely inhalation. You know… most of the people showing symptoms were at the mall today at some point.”
A muffled musical tune played and Kana reached in her inside jacket pocket and withdrew a cell phone. “I’ll look into that.” She flipped the phone open and spoke into it, “Miyoshi.”
“Hi Detective, where are you?” A woman inquired.
“Still at the hospital,” Kana replied. “What’s up, Lieutenant?”
“A housewife called my office a minute ago. Even though I wanted to keep it quiet initially, the epidemic has been all over the news. She said she has information and evidence that may be relevant to the case. I’m heading there myself to chat with her, but I want you to come with me.”
“Where?”
“Be at the police department in ten minutes.”
“Yes ma’am. Lieutenant?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Look up whatever you can on Ricin if you have time.”
“Ricin? Will do.”
Kana closed the phone and nodded to Nancy. “Thank you.”
“I hope you guys figure this out before it gets any worse.” Brenda sighed.
“Me too.” Kana turned and strode down the hall.
2
Lizzy and her parents sat in wooden chairs around their dining room table. She had a plate filled with green peas, macaroni and cheese, and one tender piece of steak. Her parents were already halfway through their meals. Her father was a big burly man who looked intimidating but was more like a giant teddy bear to his loved ones. He glanced up at her from his plate every thirty seconds. Then he would look toward his wife and resume eating. She had long blonde hair with gray streaks overtaking it, and wore thick, large framed spectacles. Lizzy had her mother’s big eyes, thin nose and lips, set on her father’s rounder face. Her hair was dark brown, down to her shoulders, and all over the place.
Though her Dad was obviously wondering why she hadn’t touched her food, an occasional icy stare from his wife encouraged him to keep his comments to himself. Lizzy’s elbows were propped on the table on either side of her plate. Her chin rested in the palms of both hands and her fingers cupped her cheeks. She peered back and forth between the faces of her parents. Her mother finally paused after swallowing a spoonful of peas and said, in a voice that indicated how little she cared, “Your food is getting cold, honey.”
“Yup.” Lizzy glanced down at it and let out a sigh.
“The steak is delicious—better have it warm.” Her Dad presented the juicy piece of steak impaled on the prongs of his fork.
“Right,” Lizzy replied.
Her Dad let down his fork and stared at his daughter, looking exasperated. This time he ignored his wife’s piercing eyes and spoke, “Lizzy, your mom is getting worried about you. You should eat now.”
“I am absolutely not going to eat my last meal.” Lizzy shook her head. “You can drive me to the chamber but I’m choosing if I eat or not.”
“Last meal? Chamber?”
“Lizzy, that’s quite enough now,” Mom said. “You can choose not to eat if you want to, but you will not talk like that at this table.”
“Charlotte, maybe we ought to—” Her father began.
“No, Bill.” His wife raised her index finger and held it inches from his lips. “We’ve pampered and made excuses for her for far too long. It ends today. She will be a strong, independent woman and she will grow up. For goodness’ sake, I’m just asking her to walk home after work. Is that so bad?”
“No,” Lizzy said, giving a phony smile. “Not at all, Mom. Only when you happen to live in the most dangerous city in the United States. Where you’ll be lucky to be murdered before they do anything else to you. So, how high are the murder rates this year? Lost count already?”
“Lizzy.” Mom rolled her eyes and talked slow, as if to a four year old. “We live in one of the best neighborhoods in Minikin Capital. Those murders and crimes you hear about, for the most part, happen in M.C. South. I used to walk to and from work seven days a week. If I was fine all that time, walking three miles home at eleven p.m., what are you so worried about?”
“Okay and gas was what? 25 cents a gallon back then?”
“Ha, ha.”
“Times have changed since then,” Lizzy reasoned. “Look, when my friends and I—”
“Friends?” Her mom made a face.
“Fine, Melissa. When she and I drive through the streets at night, you should see how they stare at us. I’m telling you, if they catch me outside the car I won’t make it home alive.”
“Most likely they’re staring at your ridiculously large glasses. Who wears those anymore?”
Lizzy gasped, and then she and her mother shared a laugh. Few people wore glasses as thick as Lizzy’s. Charlotte happened to be one of them.
“Honey, you’ll be okay, trust me.” Charlotte reached across the table and cupped her daughter’s chin. “Don’t I love you?”
“Yes.” Lizzy frowned.
“Think I want you to get hurt?” Charlotte asked.
“Nooo.”
“You’re my precious little lady. If I say you’ll be fine, I mean it. It’s only seven blocks and you should be finished the interview by 9:30 at the very latest. You’ll be alright.”
“You know your mom is protective of you—even if she is pushing you a bit,” Her father added.
“Yeah, yeah,” Lizzy agreed reluctantly. Then she was reminded of something she’d seen in the news the past few days. The thought of it brought back the nightmares she’d suffered lately. Her heart pounded as she saw herself being chased down a dark alley by something that she couldn’t shake. A persistent creature blending in with the shadows of the night. Its grotesque outline visible only due to the moonlight. She’d smirked at similar scenes in horror movies. It didn’t bring a smile to her face this time.
“What’s wrong?” Her Dad asked. Both of her parents looked bewildered.
“What about…” She swallowed, and realized how ridiculous it would sound before she said it. “What about that thing people have been seeing? You know—the demon.”
“I know you’re joking,” her mom said.
“You’ve seen the reports in the news, haven’t you?”
“I’ve seen ‘em,” Dad said, once again eating his steak. “You should be more afraid of the gangs than that thing. It’s just the weirdness of the people around here. Okay?”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Eat honey,” Charlotte admonished her. “We leave in fifteen minutes.”
“Yay.” Lizzy clapped and picked up her fork.
3
Kana watched the houses and small buildings rush by from inside Lieutenant Brooke’s gray Lincoln Continental. They were traveling in one of the few quieter neighborhoods in Minikin Capital. It afforded peaceful sights that Kana preferred to the bright lights and sky scrapers of busier areas. The orange glow emitted by the sun was slowly fading into the purple abyss. Both colors were a beautiful, haunting display, showing over the shadowed roofs and treetops. An occasional scattered orange cloud passed by overhead.
The detective glanced at Brooke in the passenger’s seat. A faint white light illuminated the lieutenant’s face as she stared intently into the lap top screen. The portable computer rested on her lengthy thighs. She looked like a tall geek, hunched over it, but Kana kept her thoughts to herself. Brooke was likeable and well respected by her employees, although some were taken aback by her beauty. She had blonde hair that hung five inches past her shoulders, plush light pink lips, green eyes, and a shapely build. One unlucky officer remarked that she belonged in modeling instead of law enforcement. The black eye he sported for the next three weeks said otherwise.
“This is…” Brooke muttered. “This could be bad. Real bad.”
“Found something interesting, finally?”
“I had to weed through all the technical gobblety goop.” Brooke shook her head. “I’ll need your nurse friend to translate most of this for me.”
“I’m not sure if she speaks gobblety goop. Might speak Spanish, though.”
Brooke snickered, then took a deep breath. “Well, it turns out that you can be infected by Ricin through three methods. Inhalation, ingestion, or skin and eye contact. Some sites include injection as well. That’s about as deadly as ingestion, which is the worst… and it’s not likely that 119 people were injected. Unless someone working in a medical office is doing it. Which…”
“Isn’t likely.”
“Right. Interesting tidbit here though. In 1978 a writer named Georgi Markov died of Ricin poisoning. A man stabbed him in the leg with an umbrella. Claimed that he had just dropped it, got into a cab, and disappeared. He died within three days. An autopsy turned up a tiny pellet that was injected under his skin by the umbrella. It contained Ricin.”
“Was the guy who killed him the Penguin by any chance?”
Brooke laughed. “Might as well have been.”
“Have we confirmed that all of the victims were at the mall today?”
“I’ve got officers and detectives making the rounds on that one. So far, 42 of the 119 have said they visited the mall between ten and twelve this morning. And six others were confirmed by friends and relatives to have been there. That was at least one location of infection. By ingestion or inhalation is the question. And what was—turn right here.”
Kana followed her directions and turned down a well lit but relatively empty street. The orange in the sky had lost out to the enclosing dark purple. It was the pale blue glow from the street lights, and the house or porch lights, that provided illumination to the road. A citizen here and there sat on their porch or looked out from house windows.
“Ricin can be used as a powder, a mist, or a pellet,” Brooke continued. “It can be dissolved in water or weak acid. So, seems like there’s a ton of ways this could have been used at the mall. Um… it’s not contagious thank God. Casual contact isn’t harmful.”
“That’s a relief.” Kana scanned the houses on her side of the road. 3217. 3219. The address of their destination was 3253.
“It works by getting inside cells in a victim’s body, and keeping them from making proteins. With the proteins gone, the cells die and that’s what often causes death. Skin or eye exposure isn’t usually fatal. The other two, or three, can cause death between 36 and 72 hours after symptoms appear. Usually due to kidney failure, respiratory failure, circulatory collapse—whatever that is—and fluid loss. There is no cure. Only symptoms are treatable.”
An image of Cassie lying prone on the hospital bed forced itself into Kana’s mind. She hadn’t expected anything on the level of what she was hearing. No one had died yet but time would be the real test. That meant Kana might have to sit by helplessly and watch her best friend die a slow death. Confined to a hospital bed and drifting in and out of consciousness. A mere pathetic shell of the lively young woman Kana loved.
The numbers 3253 passed before her eyes and she stomped on the gas pedal. The car lurched to a halt as the tires screeched. Brooke grabbed the laptop to prevent it from crashing into the dashboard and turned to her detective. “Something I said?”
“Sorry.” Kana blinked back tears, carefully parked the car, and exited. She waited for Brooke to join her on the sidewalk and then the two proceeded toward the house. It was a nice, one story brick flat decorated with beautiful flowers. They were in pots visible in two windows on either side of the front door, and a variety were grown in flowerbeds underneath the windowsills. Of course, the grass was neatly trimmed without a weed in sight. I guess when you’re not hearing gunshots too often you would be brave enough to do this outside.
As they neared the door, it opened inward and a slender, forty something Hispanic woman stepped out to greet them. “Hello.” She glanced back and forth at the two younger women with wide brown eyes. “Are you Lieutenant Brooke Morgan?”
“Yes.” Brooke gestured to Kana and said, “This is my partner, Detective Kana Miyoshi. May we come in?”
Montoya Freeman invited her guests inside and led them to a comfortable living room. A large round plastic table occupied the center of the floor. Montoya sat in a throne-like cushioned chair on one side of it and pointed them to the loveseat across the table. “Sorry, but we never had children and visitors are rare. Can I get either of you a drink?” She grabbed the armrests and prepared to push herself up.
“No, I’m fine.” Brooke had already sat down.
“I’m okay.” Kana settled beside the Lieutenant, still observing the room. She was surprised upon noticing that there was no television. In its place, it seemed, two bookcases were set against the walls to either side. They were six and a half feet tall and three wide. Both were filled with roughly a hundred books. She skimmed a few of the titles while Brooke began the conversation.
“Mrs. Freeman, you said you had some information for us related to the epidemic,” Brooke said, discreetly nudging Kana with her elbow.
The detective grabbed a miniature notepad from a jacket pocket and flipped it open. She scribbled in some of the titles in the bookcases. Mein Kampf. Three Weeks in October: The Manhunt for the Serial Killer Sniper. Ted Bundy: Conversations with a Killer. Child of Satan, Child of God.
“Yes, I think my husband Thomas may be involved,” Montoya admitted, her eyes watering. “I usually don’t pry into his work because he asked me not to. But the way he’s been acting the past few weeks—I knew something was wrong. I didn’t think he’d go this far, though. I just figured he was having an affair or…”
“Where is your husband right now?”
“At work. He’s an employee at the Sentinel Building on the eighth floor. He does software design, creation and repair. A lot of technical stuff. This was supposed to be one of his off days but his boss called a couple of days ago and asked him to go in. She wanted him to interview some new girl. To my surprise he was all for it.”
“In what way has he been acting strange?”
“Going out late at night. Sometimes I’d find him in the backyard doing exercises or meditating. Other times he’d be in the green house working on strange plants and vegetation. He forbid me to even go in after a while, and he was never like that before. We were always open and honest about everything. He leaves and doesn’t come back for the night… and two weeks ago he was arrested for hiding in the mall overnight.”
“I heard about that,” Kana said. “No charges were pressed because he didn’t attempt to steal anything. Any idea why he did… oh.” It hit her that instant and she looked to Brooke, whose eyes were stretched in realization.
“Well, I don’t know exactly.” Montoya rubbed the side of her head.
“We do,” Brooke mumbled. “What about those plants you mentioned?”
“He’s been growing castor plants back there,” She said. “I’ve seen them. The beans are there too. I think he’s making that poison.”
“How do you know about all that?”
“I found his key and looked in his green house when he went out. I had a bad feeling when I saw one of the plants so I checked up on his internet activities. I had to go back a few weeks but I found articles on Ricin. A lot of them. So I printed out pictures and took them to the green house to compare. Exactly alike.”
“You still have that key?”
“No, he took it with him earlier.”
“I’m going to call—”
“Lieutenant Brooke?” A man’s voice spoke through heavy static.
The three women jumped, startled, and then Brooke retrieved her radio from her belt and answered, “Brooke here. Doyle, I need two units to come out to 3253 Ephraim, and three to go to the Sentinel Building.”
“All available units report to the Sentinel Building.” A third voice cut in.
“Uh oh,” Kana said.
“Uh oh indeed.” Brooke stood.
4
Dread of future events often had the ability to cause time to pass quickly. In high school, students were barely able to enjoy the average two day weekend. Reluctance to return to the prison on Monday made 48 hours seem more like ten. Lizzy had expected her time spent waiting for her interview to whiz by as well. The walk home had consumed her mind on the way to the Sentinel Building. She managed to calm herself during the elevator ride up to the eighth floor.
Now, instead of trepidation, she was bored. Almost bored enough to wish the interview would come and go already. She sat in a cafeteria, watching twenty people gathered at the wooden fold up tables spread throughout the room’s center. People of all sizes, shapes, colors and styles sat, talking animatedly about things that only added to their observer’s ennui. Man, how exciting can a round of golf be? Then again, who am I to talk? She was ready to embark on a career in programming and computers. She planned to start at the bottom of the ladder as an executive assistant. If the interview was successful, at least.
Yawning, Lizzy stretched her arms above her head and glanced at the clock on the wall across from her. She’d arrived early and the interview had been scheduled to begin eleven minutes ago. This wasn’t a promising start. On the plus side, if I die of boredom I won’t have to walk home.
The doors under the clock burst open and a short, plump, brunette woman stormed in. She immediately marched toward Lizzy, shaking her head and muttering under her breath. The employees stole glances at her and exchanged knowing smirks. What did I do? Lizzy stood as the red faced woman reached her.
“He hasn’t been back here yet?” Mrs. McDougle asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“No, ma’am,” Lizzy replied. Thank God it’s not me she’s peeved at.
“The nerve of him,” Mrs. McDougle said. “Hold on, child. I’m so sorry you had to wait all this time. Thomas used to be a good, reliable worker. Trust me, his tardiness does not represent this company.”
“I know, that’s why I’m eager to work with Software Tech.” Lizzy smiled. You butt kisser. “I’m sure he’s just busy. I don’t mind waiting.”
“Thank you, but this is inexcusable. He had three days notice that you’d be here at 8:30 p.m. And daily reminders. He’ll be giving his two weeks notice soon if—”
“How about today?” The double doors ten feet to Lizzy’s left opened and a tall man waltzed in. He carried a large black duffle bag with its strap hung on his right shoulder. His left hand seemed to be occupied but it was hidden from Lizzy’s point of view. She was suspicious instantly. Something about his voice, his demeanor, and the look in his eyes frightened her. He was tall and possessed an average build. Slender yet powerful arms were visible through his white and black striped dress shirt.
“What’s been the matter with you?” Mrs. McDougle took three steps in his direction. Lizzy wanted to hold her back, but didn’t. “You used to be hardworking—dedicated, a team player. Lately you’ve acted like this job means absolutely nothing to you.”
“I’ve had an epiphany, Mrs. McDougle.” He ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, keeping his shoulder elevated to balance the bag. His hair, probably once a crew cut, was longer in some places and had odd clumps scattered throughout. Stubble was also growing on his chin and where his sideburns would be. His narrow facial features and expensive looking shirt suggested that he was normally careful about his appearance. Perhaps that had changed with his work habits.
“I realized that hardworking, dedicated, honorable men are trampled by a fast paced and unappreciative world. Lost in the shuffle of desensitized humanity. No one cares anymore. Not like they used to.”
The employees seated at the tables remained silent. They intently watched the disturbing scene unfolding before their eyes. Lizzy felt a heaviness growing in the pit of her own stomach.
“What on earth are you talking about?” Mrs. McDougle asked. Apparently she was the only person in the room who didn’t feel the tension in the air. Who didn’t sense the dread building. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Oh no, let me demonstrate,” he said. “You see Doreen, if I came in here and worked hard every single day, was diligent to keep up with my tasks and appointments, was never late and refused to clock in early, if I was always available to work overtime—if I was the perfect employee—no one would care. I was, and none of you cared. You liked it, sure, but you still treated me like crap. In the end, fifty years from now, no one will care, right? Now, if I do this…”
He turned to face her and raised the previously hidden hand. Lizzy gasped. That’s not what I think it is. Can’t be.
“No one in this room will ever forget.”
BOOM! Doreen McDougle and Lizzy screamed. The older woman clamped her hands over her stomach and crumpled to the floor. Lizzy looked down to see specks of blood covering her own trembling hands and her clothes. Doreen was lying in a puddle of it on her side, writhing in pain while clutching her abdomen.
“No,” Lizzy stammered as an explosion inside her body brought her to her knees. Her head suddenly felt light, but her limbs weighed a thousand pounds. The throbbing in her chest was hard enough to hurt, and much faster than it should have been.
“Alright, the rest of you sit down,” Thomas ordered. He waved the gun in the direction of the tables and those that had risen sat immediately. The others cried out and ducked to avoid the line of fire. “Just relax, and don’t make any stupid moves.”
He unzipped his bag with his free hand and reached inside, keeping the gun in place. No one moved a muscle. Grinning, he withdrew a book sized piece of machinery and slipped it through the opening in the double doors’ handles. He tapped a few buttons, producing a loud beep from the device.
“What are you doing?” Someone at the tables asked.
“Setting a dramatic example.” Thomas stepped over to Lizzy and grabbed her forearm. He gave a tug. “You’re coming with me.”
“No, please don’t.” Lizzy resisted, fighting to keep herself low to the ground.
“Up now.” Thomas pointed the gun at her forehead. “I won’t tolerate disobedience. You give me a hard time and you die. You don’t get up right now—they’re going to pick your brains off the floor.”
Lizzy peeled her eyes away from that horrible, black hole of death. She wouldn’t be able to move if it stayed before her eyes for long. Even knowing it was inches from her head terrified her. Though Thomas expected it to, the gun didn’t motivate her to move faster. Instead it added additional weight to her already heavy limbs. She ceased resisting, however, and the gunman easily pulled her to her feet.
“You won’t—won’t hurt me if I come?” She asked.
“No, no,” Thomas said. He pushed her around the tables, once again aiming the gun at the seated employees. They held their hands up in surrender. “Today Lizzy, I was supposed to be introducing you to the world of computer programming. Instead, I will introduce you to the broader world. To the truth. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
They reached the other side of the room and he released her arm to dig inside his bag. He pulled out a device similar to the one he’d placed on the other door. Up close, Lizzy knew what it was. It was a black rectangular object with wires, buttons, and a switch decorating its surface. None of us is making it out of here alive. Thomas punched in a code on the buttons and numbers appeared on a screen near the top of the gadget. 00:25. Then 00:24.
“Alright folks, here’s what’s happening,” Thomas spoke. “If you attempt to open either of these doors, you’ll detonate the bombs. They’re set to explode simultaneously so don’t try to be slick. Detonator is with me, and so is the disabler. In the meantime, help poor old Doreen McDougle over there. Stop the bleeding, call the cops. Tell them I want my wife, Montoya Freeman, here. Do a good job and you all live.”
Thomas opened one of the double doors, pushed Lizzy through the opening, and stepped in after her. She moved back and watched him hold the bomb against the thin crack between the doors. He placed the gun at his feet, snatched a roll of duct tape from his bag, and began taping the bomb to the doors. Lizzy tensed. She had an opportunity to stop him now. His back was turned, the gun was on the floor, and there was nothing to stop her. She could throw herself into him, knock him past the weapon and pick it up. As weak as you feel, you may just kill yourself trying something like that. Conversely, he might be planning to kill her anyway. Now could be the last chance she’d have to save herself.
“Done, just in time.” Thomas scooped up the gun and turned to face her. A beep sounded behind him and he smiled. Lizzy’s opportunity had come and gone. Her heart sank. Too late now you coward. You’re a failure and you blew it. Don’t even deserve to live. Lizzy’s eyes filled with tears as Thomas pointed down the hall and said, “Shall we go on, dear?”
Without waiting for a response, he pushed her toward the elevators close by.
5
“I want my wife, Montoya Freeman, brought to me immediately,” Thomas’ voice demanded through Brooke’s car radio. Kana once again sat behind the wheel, this time with Montoya in the passenger’s seat. The Lieutenant stood outside the driver’s door with her arms crossed over her chest. All three were listening to Thomas’ message for the third time, ignoring the dozens of officers surrounding the Freeman home. Some went in and out of the house, others stayed in the backyard, and a few waited by the eight cruisers parked in the street.
“No one will be hurt as long as the police don’t try to pull anything,” he continued. “Isn’t that right, Lizzy? Lizzy?”
“Y-yes,” a quiet voice replied.
“I don’t want your money, just your cooperation. Get television cameras here, news anchors, especially Julia Newman, and put me on LIVE. I have a message I want to give to the sheep of this city, and the rest of the world. You’ll have 25 minutes to set up all of those conditions. And just so you know, I’m in the control room. I’m sure old Rick will tell you that I can see everything from here. And I don’t want to see ANYONE enter this building without my direct permission. No SWAT or snipers on the roofs, either. If you even begin to break one rule, everyone in the cafeteria dies. When all is in place and I see my wife here—I’ll call with further instructions.”
Brooke rested her hands on the top of the car door and leaned down to the open window. “Alright, it’ll take you 15 minutes to get down there. There are several news reporters on the way already. Montoya, you’re still okay going through with this, right? I won’t let you be put in harm’s way, and neither will Kana.”
“My husband won’t hurt me.” Montoya shook her head. “I can assure you of that.”
“Okay ladies, get a move on it.” Brooke slapped the top of the car and backed away. “Kana, keep charge over there and keep the peace until I show up. I’ll authorize you to go in undercover if you can. Think of something.”
“Yes ma’am,” Kana replied. She rolled the window up and began driving forward, glancing at the officers and other personnel nearby. They had discovered an impressive collection of guns and knives in a room under Thomas’ greenhouse. There were also more signs of castor oil production. Although he had yet to confirm it, the authorities had their suspect. No one had died and hopefully it would stay that way. The shooting of a Doreen McDougle, however, meant that they had to act with urgency.
The detective made a quick left turn while taking her cell phone out of her jacket pocket. She lowered her eyes from the road and stared into the small object’s screen. Her thumb slipped over the six and she paused. Should I call him? More specifically, do we need him? The police might be capable of handling matters without any deaths occurring. Yet, something told her that his involvement would be the safest bet. She didn’t trust Thomas’ promise not to hurt anyone. Since when was the word of a criminal reliable? Before Kana realized what she was doing, she punched in the number.
Three rings later, he answered. “Hey Kana.”
She took a deep breath. “Hey. Where are you?”
“Here with Cassie.”
“Feeling better than ever!” Cassie called out.
“I bet she is.” Kana grinned. “Joe have you heard about what’s happening down at the Sentinel Building?”
“No.”
She gave him a brief overview, concluding with, “No one is dead yet, but that could change at any moment. Our hands are tied because he has the situation pretty well scouted. And frankly, although his wife says he’s never been violent before, that merely makes this that much more unpredictable. Somehow, I doubt he plans to let those people live.”
“And you want me to…”
“Yeah.”
“How can I get past the cameras?”
“Hm…” Kana narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t invisible even if he was better off than the police. “Well…”
“To keep track of every important place in that building, there has to be a lot of monitors. He can’t watch all of them at the same time if he’s working alone.”
“You’re brilliant.” Kana smiled. “Keep your phone on you. Stay out of sight, and I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Will do.”
As she tucked her phone away, Montoya asked, “Detective, what are they going to do to my Thomas?”
She sighed. “Right now, Montoya, that’s completely up to your husband. He hasn’t killed anyone but he has threatened lives. No one will shoot him on sight unless he does kill or is attempting to.”
“You have to understand, Thomas has just been driven to this by something. We’ve had a lot of setbacks in our lives and every time it seems like things are improving—there was another problem waiting. He is a good man. So please do all that you can to save him.”
“Good men do good things, Montoya,” Kana spoke before she could stop herself. “What he does in the next hour will determine what he’s all about.”
6
If causing a stir was what Thomas Freeman planned to do, he had succeeded. The Sentinel Building’s parking lot was crowded with police officers, other law enforcement agents, reporters, journalists, and employee vehicles. Concerned loved ones had also shown up and been restrained by the authorities. They were joined by onlookers watching from outside the area the police had cordoned off. The majority of the employees had evacuated the building and were in the process of being questioned.
Detective Miyoshi peered around at the scene. Thomas had undoubtedly gotten what he wanted. The news teams were having a field day capturing it all on camera. A SWAT truck was parked closest to the building’s entrance doors. Unmasked members of the team stood around it with their guns at the ready. They repeatedly had to warn the reporters to keep their distance. 14 police cruisers were positioned to block off the small area surrounding the SWAT team.
Kana stood in a small circle consisting of the SWAT leader James O’Donnel, a negotiator named Albert Diamant, bomb expert and task force leader Bob Hop, Sentintel Building security guard Rick Jones, and Montoya Freeman—who stood beside Kana. The popular news anchorwoman Julia Newman and a camerawoman waited behind the detective. They occasionally drew icy stares from their fellow media members, who were not permitted to be within 15 yards of the group.
“So, he really does have visual access to the entire building?” James asked. He was a tall, eager looking man with a dented chin and blonde hair.
“Oh yes.” Rick nodded. “He can observe all of the entrances and the rooftop from that one room. The cameras also give him a view of the roofs of the surrounding structures. We can’t make a move without him knowing it.”
“How is sewer access?” James, though well intentioned, was grasping at the wind.
“There is one and there aren’t any cameras so you could probably get in without him knowing. Good luck finding a way past the basement cameras if you choose that route, though.”
“Damn,” James muttered.
“Let’s settle down and talk about the possibility of resolving this peacefully, shall we?” Albert suggested, rubbing his brown and white beard. “He hasn’t asked for an unreasonable amount of cash and a trip to Cuba so… thus far he’s been rational. Is there any reason to distrust him?”
“I can give you about 23,” Kana said. “He has that many hostages up there at the least. And the ones with cell phones say he critically wounded a woman. I won’t take the little sense he’s shown us and take it to mean he’s reasonable.”
“I suppose you don’t believe in giving someone the benefit of—”
“No. And especially not when it comes to criminals.”
“You have a way to resolve this situation without putting lives at stake?” Albert crossed his arms.
“Yeah, I do,” Kana replied, ignoring the noises coming through the Blue Tooth in her left ear. The device was hidden by her hair. “For now, we can’t risk any big or obvious moves. Not until he starts killing people. So we send in his wife Montoya, like he asked, along with Julia Newman and a camera.”
“Yes!” Julia made a fist and cocked her arm downward. Her camerawoman extended her open hand and Julia slapped her a high five. “We’re in Monica.”
“However, to keep track of things, and to ensure no one is hurt…” Kana turned and sized up the camerawoman. “We’re about the same height and hair color. I’ll go in disguised as her.”
The camerawoman stared at Miyoshi, open-mouthed.
“Sounds smart to me,” James said.
“Me too.” The quiet bomb expert, Bob, chimed in. “But don’t we need some sort of a contingency plan? You know, in case he is just planning to kill everyone? Or already has?”
“Since we are on a time limit I’ll leave that up to you guys,” Kana said, glancing down at her watch. She turned to Julia and approached her and the camerawoman, who wore a blue vest with yellow letters over the left breast reading: MC News Today. “I’m going to need that.”
“This isn’t fair.” Monica fretted. “Why can’t you just be a second camera?”
“Obstruction of justice. Need I say more?”
“Fine.” Monica handed the camera to Julia and slipped the vest off over her head.
“Don’t worry,” Kana said, removing her jacket and handing it to her. She had a shoulder strap on which held an occupied pistol holster and a pouch for her badge. “All credit will go to you.”
“Rick,” Kana called. She waited until he stepped away from the group and approached. Once he was near enough she lowered her voice and said, “Tell me, can he really see every camera at once? He has to have a blind spot.”
“Well, of course the bathrooms are clear,” he told her. “And unless he’s a spider he can’t see all the monitors at the same time. There are 57 screens spread on a wall about seven feet wide. If you take the West Staircase, past the elevators, he’ll have to turn his head to see the monitors showing the roofs and upper floors. But it’s unlikely he’ll focus on the stairwell cameras long enough for SWAT to move in. Otherwise I would have brought that up.”
“Understood. Thanks.”
“Ask him what’s on the floor right above the Control Room,” a raspy voice asked through the speaker in her Blue Tooth.
“What’s on the floor above the Control Room?” She asked, trying to sound casual.
“A dance class.” Rick shrugged. “They sure do make a lot of noise for a bunch of girls with little feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have allowed the evacuation. The noise on the floor might have driven Thomas crazy.”
“Too late for that I guess,” Kana said. She turned to Mrs. Newman and took the camera from her. “Ready to go?”
“I was born for this.” Julia smiled.
“Let’s go, Montoya.” Kana took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “Just act natural, don’t give me away no matter what, and maybe we can resolve this peacefully.”
“You’ll…” Montoya’s voice cracked. She stared up at the higher floors of the Sentinel Building, eyes wide and wet. “I don’t think he will, but if he attacks me… you’ll protect me, right?”
Kana couldn’t imagine how terrible Montoya Freeman felt uttering the possibility. The denial had faded. She had to know that the man waiting on the eighth floor wasn’t who she thought he was. Not anymore. Kana spoke softly, “I won’t let him hurt you, Montoya.”
“Thank you,” Montoya whispered, briefly squeezing the detective’s hand in appreciation.
“Let me know when you’re on the second flight,” the voice spoke in her ear again.
Kana lowered her head to keep the noise muffled to the ears of others around her.
“Just apologize for something and that’ll be my cue.”
“M-hm,” Kana hummed. I pray to God that this works.
7
God, please get me out of this, Lizzy pleaded in silence. She sat with her back against the far wall of the control room. Her hands were clasped on top of her knees, and her head hung only a few inches above them. Her eyes went back and forth between the floor and the door fifteen feet across the room. She avoided looking in her captor’s direction to keep from setting him off. He was probably only a wrong look away from snapping.
Thomas sat in one of two black, cushioned chairs, his eyes roaming the dozens of screens displayed before him. They took up more than three fourths of the wall. Behind him were alarms, buttons, and various pieces of machinery. The chair five feet to his left, close to the door, was occupied by his black duffle bag. On top of it sat the detonator. Funny how such an insignificant looking object can be so deadly.
“Good,” Thomas said, petting the barrel of the rifle in his lap as if it was a cat. “See? They’re doing everything I asked them to do. Julia Newman is here, too. You get interviewed by her and it’ll be all over the U.S. Since you’ve been so good, I might let you go on, too.”
Man this guy is nuts, Lizzy closed her eyes.
“Let me tell you what led us here, okay?” Thomas glanced at her, not waiting for a response. “You see, this isn’t a simple case of an underappreciated worker trying to get his cheap fifteen minutes of fame. No. Try an entire lifetime of not being appreciated, and being completely ignored by the mainstream. It can—”
Kana, Julia, and Montoya were ascending the second flight of plastic stairs. They walked in silence, besides the occasional comment uttered here and there. That left them listening to the clicking sounds made by the detective’s boots and Julia’s suede blue high heels. Each step echoed through the 100-foot tall staircase. It sounded as if an army was advancing instead of three relatively thin women.
Julia was several steps ahead of the other two, adjusting her hair as if she were going on a date. Montoya was next to Kana, who purposely made sure they stayed close. She looked up and noticed a camera perched in the upper left corner of the landing between the second and third floors. Returning her eyes to the wall ahead, she stepped up onto the second to last stair, placing her foot a few inches over into Mrs. Freeman’s path. She prayed that the deliberateness of the movement had gone unnoticed.
“Oh.” Montoya’s ankle crossed Kana’s and she tripped immediately, falling forward onto her hands and knees. Kana fell with her and landed on one knee, throwing her arm behind Mrs. Freeman and balancing the camera with the other hand.
“I’m so sorry,” Kana said.
“You two okay?” Julia stepped toward them.
“I’m okay.” Montoya nodded. “Sorry Kana.”
“It was my fault,” Kana replied, helping her up to her feet.
“Clumsy fools,” Thomas muttered. He shook his head, watching the staircases shown on the far left monitors. Lizzy noticed an odd shadow on one of the screens closest to her. It was gone in an instant however. Probably her imagination.
“So… I was providing you with some insight into the truth,” He went on. “I was a typical bad kid, raised in the slums of Ivory City. Joined one of the nastier gangs when my parents kicked me out for bringing drugs home. Ran with them for most of my teenage years. Learned all about the bad side of life. Desperation, drug addiction, rape… seen people killed right before my eyes. Robbed more stores and hurt more people than I can count. At 20 I was arrested for assault and battery and rape. I spent five years in prison. Had a lot of time to think and consider where my life was headed. I realized that I wanted to make an impact in this world—and a good one.”
Thomas looked to Lizzy, who continued to stare at the floor.
“So I began studying, got my GED, and enrolled in a county college. When I got out I studied law, politics, criminal justice, and government. I also got involved in my community. And eventually some of my friends urged me to run for mayor. Not only them, but even some of the poor people I visited on the streets. Twice a week I’d go with a church organization to feed them. Quite a number of them got back on their feet thanks to me, and they pulled for me. As did many former criminals who believed in true redemption.
“Some people in the elite, unfortunately, were dead set against me. They had nothing on me so they dug up my past, did commercials with the people I had hurt and turned the town against me—despite all the good I’d done. So I went back to the streets, continued to help people, built well maintained shelters, and created programs. Crime rates dropped. I was asked to run again and guess what? They spurned me.”
Thomas sighed, and shook his head. “So then I came to Minikin Capital. I brought all of my experiences, ideas, statistics, and zeal ready to change this evil city. If I had worked wonders for Ivory, I could undoubtedly do it in Minikin Capital. When I arrived, only one news station even mentioned me—and their supposedly unbiased report was a complete mockery. ‘A young upstart has come to Minikin Capital with a lot of whacky ideas, and enough enthusiasm to make it sound credible—almost.’ That’s all Julia Newman had to say about me then.
“Of course that was the last bit of coverage I ever got. They ignored me afterwards, as did the officials. They’re all corrupt, you know? In the police department, in the board, in the mayor’s office. Either they’re owned by the Mafia or the Yakuza. Doesn’t matter which. Everything I tried to do was effectively snuffed out by the liberal media and wolves in sheep’s clothing. Why do you think that is? Lizzy?”
She lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze and recapture her voice. “I… I don’t know.” She understood his gripe with society. But it was difficult to be sympathetic toward a man who had threatened her at gunpoint.
“If I knew you’d be this stupid, I’d have left you downstairs,” Thomas muttered. He stood, put the gun on the floor in front of his chair, and stretched his arms over his head. “Do you want to die?”
“No!” Lizzy pleaded, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.
“Why not? Don’t you realize that in this evil world you either fail or become a monster? There is no true success and no one cares about good guys like I used to be. They rejected me—mocked me. So what’s the point of it all?”
Lizzy searched her mind for something other than I don’t know. “Well… maybe we shouldn’t be… working just to be successful. Maybe it’s just important to do our best. For the people who do care.”
“Why?”
“I don’t…”
“Well, I do. And I’m going to make it crystal clear for you. If you want to make an impact in this life, and be recognized, you have to be a monster. Think about it, there were countless heroes in World War 2, right? But do you know any of their names? No. They and their names are forgotten. Hitler, however, was immortalized and his book is a top seller. Same with Stalin, Bundy, and soon… yours truly.
“Bundy raped and murdered at least 30 women. He found religion in prison and warned that pornography started his descent into perversion. Didn’t know about that one did you? See my point? They glorified his atrocities, not his redemption!”
“What are you going to do?” Lizzy asked. She had a terrible feeling about where this was headed.
“Talk to Julia Newman, share the truth of life with the United States… and murder the sheep in the cafeteria downstairs. That, along with the hundreds of people who will probably die from Ricin poisoning, will cement the name Thomas Freeman in history.”
“You can’t.” Lizzy’s head dropped. This is all my fault. Had she acted earlier, she could have prevented it from getting this far. If she’d died, she at least wouldn’t have the deaths of the others on her conscience.