Conviction

by Dwayne Gill

“I’ll take 310.” Cane knew it was the best he would get.

  He walked back outside. Fortunately, none of the hotel rooms had balconies. After studying the exterior of the hotel to his liking, Cane entered the side door again and made his way up the stairs. He paused at the door in the stairwell on the third floor, and after listening for a minute, entered the hallway. It was empty. He walked the length, and as he passed each door, listened to the voices of the occupants in each room, wary of anything that sounded out of the ordinary. Was the assassin already here, lying in wait in one of the rooms? He scanned the walls and ceilings but saw no security cameras, just as Lynks had predicted. The lower levels had cameras in the more frequented areas, but not the upper floors. Cane reached into his bag and pulled out a small stick-on camera and attached it to the wall at the end of the hallway so Lynks could have a clear visual. He also placed a another above the door frame of room 312, which was directly across the hall from Natalie’s door. The small cameras were hard to detect, even on an open surface, but they provided a crystal-clear picture.

  Cane entered his room, set his bag down, and had a look around. The room was small but cozy. He walked to his door and cracked it open; room 313 was clearly visible. He retrieved a friction drill from his bag and equipped it with a tungsten carbide drill bit. He knelt down and melted a hole through the hotel door at knee level, at an upward angle. When he finished, he called Lynks, giving the heated metal time to cool off.

  “I’m in 310,” said Cane. “I put two cameras in the hallway. One at the end of the hall, one above 312.”

  Lynks was already bringing up the camera images. “Okay. I’m in business.”

  “I’m gonna rest,” said Cane. “Call if you need me.”

  Cane took a hot shower then lay on his bed and passed out. He woke up at eleven thirty, took another shower, this time a cold one, and waited.

  Lynks called at 11:45 p.m. “A group of kids was just congregating outside the hotel. One of them was Natalie,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” asked Cane.

  “I’m sure,” said Lynks. “I’ve spent so much time looking at her, I feel like I know her.”

  “Is she coming inside?” asked Cane.

  “It looks like they’re all about to part ways, so I’d assume so.”

  Cane considered walking downstairs but decided against it. He still didn’t know what was going on, so he refused to put himself in the open. He waited, with Lynks on the line.

  “She’s entering the hotel,” said Lynks.

  Cane knelt at the door and looked out the hole he drilled. Minutes passed.

  “I see her,” said Lynks. “She’s walking down the hall.”

  Cane didn’t see her until she stepped near her door. She typed on the keypad and disappeared inside.

  “What now?” asked Lynks.

  “We wait.” said Cane.

  They wouldn’t have to wait long. “Two men are walking down the hall,” said Lynks. “They stopped. They’re close to Natalie’s door.”

  Cane couldn’t see them yet. “What are they doing?” he asked.

  “They’re just standing there,” said Lynks. “Both are dressed in black jackets and jeans. Both slightly built, over six feet tall. One of them is pulling something out of a bag.”

  Cane was ready to act, assuming it was a gun.

  “Wait,” said Lynks. “It’s a small device. He’s setting it on the floor. Now he’s standing back up. He’s—”

  Suddenly, all went dark, and Cane could no longer hear Lynks. Every light in the hotel room was out and Cane’s phone was dead. There was silence in the hotel; everything seemed to come to a crashing halt. Cane hurried to his bed and felt for his gun. He picked it up and tried to eject a magazine, but it was dead. EMP blast, Cane thought. It was the only thing that made sense. His E9 was supposed to withstand an EMP, but he didn’t have time to ponder what happened. He knelt at his door and looked out the hole he drilled, but it was too dark to see anything. He heard a strange sound. Looking closer, he saw a small flame erupt into a larger one and point at Natalie’s door. Now illuminated by the glow, he could see one of the two men bent over, looking at the door handle and wearing goggles. A torch. They’re cutting through the doorjamb.

  Cane had to act quickly. With no weapon, he burst through his door and ran straight at the two men. The one holding the torch jerked his head around, surprised by the sudden movement, and prepared for Cane’s approach. He tried to swing the torch in Cane’s direction, but Cane grabbed his left wrist and held it. The assassin was strong; Cane used his left hand to maintain leverage. The second man circled the first and aimed a gun at Cane, who twisted to his right while swinging the torch-wielding man with him. Cane heard a pop, then heard something hit the wall just left of his shoulder. It was an odd sound, so he glanced at the projectile stuck in the wall. The torch illuminated the object enough for him to recognize it. A dart? thought Cane. They’re not here to kill her. They’re here to take her.

  The torch wielder pushed Cane against Natalie’s door, the piping hot handle scorching his lower back. As the man held him against it, Cane thrust his left knee into the assassin’s stomach, causing him to loosen his grip. He still had a hold of the torch, so Cane spun the man’s body around into a reverse hug and caused the flame to spray in front of him. The second assailant couldn’t react in time to dodge the hot flames that splashed him across his face and shoulders. He screamed and fell to the floor, writhing in agony. Cane was sure the hotel guests heard the man’s gruesome cries, so he needed to get out of there.

  After the burning of his partner, the torch wielder thrashed around and then released the torch, which clanked to the floor along with the attached tank. The flame sputtered and went out, and it was dark again. Cane had an even harder time seeing now that the flame burned an impression into his vision.

  The assassin elbowed Cane in the mouth, finally able to break free, and pulled his goggles off. “It’s nice to meet you, Cane.”

  He knows who I am, thought Cane. The man said it with a certain familiarity, though Cane was sure they’d never met.

  The man appeared to pull out a knife. Cane backpedaled until his back pressed slightly against the hot handle again, just enough for him to have a sense of where he was. He knew the remaining assassin was left-handed, so he crouched and dipped his left shoulder to prepare himself for the coming blow. The assassin, also blinded, aimed too high, just as expected, and Cane grabbed his wrist and pulled it across his body. He screamed in pain as Cane directed his hand against the handle, causing it to sizzle. The knife clanked to the floor and Cane retrieved it immediately. The wounded man staggered backward, holding his burned hand, and Cane lunged at him.

  In a quick motion, the man reached across his body and drew a gun, but Cane was on top of him before he could even take aim. Cane grabbed the man’s gun hand with his left and with his right stabbed the man in his throat, a kill shot to his jugular. Cane extracted the knife and felt the spray of blood as the assassin fell to the floor, grunting and gurgling. I guess I got the DNA I needed, he thought as he wiped the blood from his face.

  He would’ve liked to talk to the guy, but he died rather quickly. The other assailant was silent now, either dead or passed out. Cane listened for the other occupants; now that it was quiet, he figured at least someone would crack open their door to see what was happening. He couldn’t hear anything, but because he couldn’t see well, he shouted, “Stay in your rooms!” He hoped it would buy him a few extra minutes.

  Cane found the torch and walked over to the cooked assassin. He found the flint hanging from the handle and flicked the flame back to life, leaving it barely burning, just bright enough to see. The man’s face was burned badly, to the bone in two places. Cane looked at his right forearm and saw the infamous marking: a cluster of seven Xs. The other assassin had it too. He collected the burned one’s wallet then tried the second man, but he wasn’t carrying one. However, he found the EMP device stuffed into one of his poc
kets and grabbed it. He examined the gun that the torch assassin dropped and saw it was also a tranquilizer. Apparently, neither of them planned on a real fight. Cane pocketed one tranq gun and stepped to Natalie’s door. Now for the fun part. Cane needed to secure Natalie, and to do that, he first had to get through her door. He looked at the handle; the torch had made it about halfway through. He could burn through it the rest of the way, but he wasn’t sure how much gas was left in the tank. He took a chance and knocked on her door.

  “Please open,” said Cane. “I’m here to help.”

  He listened for a few moments and heard movement inside, but nothing suggested she would open the door. He aimed the torch, ready to cut, but heard a loud “Ouch!” on the other side of the door. She touched the handle.

  “Use a towel to open it,” said Cane.

  A moment later the door clicked open. Cane stepped to the side on the off chance this girl was waiting to shoot him, but nothing happened. He walked into the doorway and saw her standing on the other side of the threshold, confused and crying. He reached a hand out to her. “Natalie. I’m here to help. We need to get out of here, now.”

  She seemed to snap out of a trance; her body jerked, and she nodded.

  “Grab your purse,” said Cane.

  She looked confused by the request but turned back and grabbed it before they left the room. She stumbled forward and saw the two dead men lying in the hallway, almost stopped, but Cane pulled her along. Her face twisted in horror and disgust, partially from the sight of dead men, but also from the lingering smell of burning flesh.

  Cane grabbed his bag from his room and they walked down the hall toward the stairs. There were no hotel room doors open anywhere, but Cane knew it wouldn’t last. When they descended the stairs, it was clear the EMP took out more than just their floor, for all the lights in the stairwell were out, as well as the lights on the floor level. This now worked to Cane’s advantage; the security cameras downstairs would be of no use.

  They exited through the same side that Cane entered earlier and walked to the car. Just as Cane feared, it was dead, although the EMP shouldn’t have affected anything this far away from the blast. To Cane’s left sat a stalled car in the intersection, then another one to the right of him. Someone had pushed a vehicle to the parking lane and was leaning against it.

  As Cane planned his next move, Lynks’s van skidded to a stop beside them. Cane opened the side door and climbed in, helped Natalie in, and Lynks drove away.

  Lynks looked relieved to see them; he’d seen or heard nothing since the cameras went out. “What happened in there?” he asked.

  “It was an EMP. The blast disabled my car,” said Cane.

  “It looks like it affected everything on this block,” said Lynks. “I’m glad I parked far enough away.” Lynks’s van was too big for the parking lane closer to the hotel, which forced him to park farther away than he wanted.

  “I left the cameras in the hallway,” said Cane.

  Lynks waved it off. “No matter. They’re fried now, anyway. Even if they’re found, they can’t be tracked back to me.”

  “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” asked Natalie. Her voice was shaky and her face was pale.

  Natalie was an ordinary-looking college girl, tall, maybe five eleven, with an olive complexion. Long brown hair hung to the middle of her back. She seemed soft-spoken, but the situation tonight seemed to have her panicked.

  Cane looked at Lynks and gave him a nod. He was a much better communicator.

  “Natalie, I’m Lynks. This is Cane. Someone sent us here to stop those guys from killing you.”

  Natalie seemed dumbfounded. “What do you mean? Why would someone want to kill me?”

  “Well, we hoped you could enlighten us on that part,” said Lynks.

  Natalie shook her head back and forth. She seemed to fight back a fresh wave of tears. “I’m just a college kid. How would I know who wanted to kill me?”

  Cane believed her; she seemed genuinely perplexed.

  “You said someone sent you. Who?” she asked.

  “We don’t know. Whoever it was left us a message,” said Lynks.

  Natalie looked even more confused, like she wasn’t able to wrap her brain around it. Cane realized how this all must sound to her. He hoped in a few minutes she’d be in safe hands and they could move on.

  “I need your purse,” said Cane.

  Natalie retrieved it, though she must‘ve thought the request bizarre. Cane dug until he found the address the recording said he’d see and relayed it to Lynks.

  “Do you know how this address got into your purse?” Cane asked.

  Natalie again looked perplexed. “No, I’ve never seen that.”

  Cane guessed someone had slipped it inside earlier in the evening. But who?

  “I tried to call the police after the lights went out,” said Natalie. “My phone stopped working. What happened?”

  “It’s called an EMP,” said Lynks. “Electromagnetic Pulse. I saw one man in the hallway with a small device but couldn’t tell what it was. It blows the circuitry of anything electronic within a certain radius.”

  “Have you ever seen one that powerful?” asked Cane.

  Lynks shook his head. “Does your gun still work?” he asked.

  Cane held up his dead Egun in response.

  Eguns were supposedly immune to the latest EMP technology. For years it had been a race between Egun manufacturers and EMPs, each trying to outpace the other for an upper hand, but that war was allegedly put to bed years ago. The government prohibited EMPs of specific strengths in the States.

  “I have it,” Cane said, pulling a device out of his bag.

  “I’ll look at it later,” said Lynks.

  Cane sat back and absorbed the evening’s events. He looked at Natalie, who appeared exhausted, and for a moment she reminded him of Kristy and how scared she’d looked that night. That ended up being a defining moment in Cane’s life. He now wondered if this moment would end up being one as well.

  The Other Side

  Saturday, 9/9/2028, 12:10 a.m.

  Amos ended his cell phone call and threw the device onto the passenger seat of his car, where it sat for only a second before ringing again. He slammed his right fist into the steering wheel to vent his rage then took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He accepted the call but said nothing.

  “What happened back there?” asked Mick.

  Amos didn’t know what to tell him. Mick wouldn’t be happy about the outcome, but there was no avoiding the conversation. He and Mick were equals, and both would have to answer to Vinson, their leader, eventually.

  “It appears someone set us up,” said Amos. They’d planned the job at the hotel hastily, but abducting a college girl should’ve been easy. Someone had compromised them, and now it was just a matter of finding out how and by whom.

  “Where’s the girl now?” asked Mick.

  “I’ve got someone following them. Two guys were waiting outside the hotel when this all went down,” said Amos. One of Amos’s men had called him when he saw Natalie and another man exit the hotel; the other found the two assassins dead inside, one burned to a crisp, the other stabbed in the jugular.

  “I warned you about this intel coming in. I never trusted it,” said Mick.

  Mick had warned him, had warned them all. The tip on Natalie seemed too good to be true. It had fallen right into their lap, which should’ve raised concerns. It did raise concerns. I just ignored them, thought Amos. None of them ever suspected a set-up. They’d all figured no one would be dumb enough to put themselves on their radar. In fact, there was only one person who would have a motive to interfere. Marcene. Mick evidently had been thinking along those lines.

  “It was Marcene,” said Mick.

  “We don’t know that,” said Amos, but he wasn’t even buying his own deflection.

  “I think she had him kill our two men inside,” said Mick.

  Him. That was an exciting thou
ght to Amos. They had been looking for Cane, the mystery assassin, for a long time, but he was a hard one to find. Amos almost objected to Mick’s assertion but reconsidered. It had to have been Cane. No one else could’ve possessed the skill to ambush and kill two of their guys so easily.

  “That raises concerns. Serious concerns,” said Mick. Amos didn’t have to wonder what Mick was referring to. “If he’s in contact with Marcene…”

  “Mick, calm down,” said Amos. “There’s no reason to jump to that conclusion.”

  Even though Mick could be reactionary, in this case he was correct in his line of thinking, and Amos knew it. If Marcene had been in contact with the assassin, it was possible she had disclosed damaging information to him. But just how harmful could that knowledge be now?

  “It may not even matter,” said Amos. “Everything’s in place. His knowledge wouldn’t affect anything we’re doing.”

  “You sure about that?” asked Mick. “He could become a thorn in our side.”

  “Or… he could lead us straight to the man we’ve been looking for,” said Amos. If he was the assassin, and Amos believed he was, and Marcene had divulged information to him, then perhaps his next stop would lead them to the third man they’d been searching for, after so many years.

  “We should just take him and the girl out,” said Mick.

  Amos liked Mick. In fact, they were like brothers. All six of the lieutenants under Vinson, including Vinson himself, had grown up together, watching each other’s backs and preparing for what they now tried to accomplish. Every one of them had found their own role, or purpose, and each brought different strengths to the table. They also had their own flaws. Mick was always a stickler for details and liked everything tidy. Sometimes his cautiousness proved invaluable, and then there were other times when it was shortsighted, like now.

  Amos struggled to maintain his patience, for he was a doer. He preferred taking aggressive approaches and didn’t fear the consequences. The lead on Natalie being at the hotel was risky, but to Amos, it was worth it.