by Bobby Nash
She nodded and he handed it back to her.
Jacks checked the magazine, inserting a fresh one, the racked in a load.
She gave her partner a reassuring nod. She was ready.
Together, the DC Metro detectives double timed it up the steps and, using the visitor’s keycard Detective Walker had been issued earlier, let themselves inside.
###
Inside the offsite facility, chaos reigned.
Once inside the door, Jacks went right, Walker went left. They each had their service weapons drawn and ready. Alarms blared, cutting through the night and echoing off concrete walls. Red lights flashed in temp with the alarm.
The cacophony of sound and sensation only served to make Jacks’ headache worse.
“Clear,” she called out. There was no one in the hallway but her.
From the other direction, her partner echoed with his own, “All clear!”
“What do you think, Mel?”
“Let’s start with where we’re holding our prime suspect,” Walker said, pointing in the direction they should go.
With a nod, Jacks fell into step with him.
“If The Controller isn’t responsible for this, then it’s a good bet it’s about him.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
It took a few moments to reach the room where Greg Gulley was being held for questioning. The door was closed, the frosted glass window glowed from the harsh white bulbs inside.
“That one,” Walker said, pointing.
The detectives came at the room from opposite directions, making sure the intersecting hallways were clear.
With a nod, Walker moved to the door where his partner waited.
Another nod and he reached out and turned the door handle.
As soon as it turned, he pushed it open.
Jacks entered the room first, her gun arm sweeping the room and looking for hostiles.
She found none.
Walker came in one step behind her.
He dropped the gun next to his leg.
Greg Gulley, The Controller, sat in the same spot where Melvin Walker had seen him earlier. Even with the alarms and chaos going on outside of the room, he seemed… content.
That made Walker nervous.
“What’s the matter, detective?” The Controller asked. “Surprised to see me? I bet you thought I’d try and run, didn’t you?”
“The idea did cross my mind,” Walker said.
“That’s because you haven’t been paying attention. I told you I can’t leave until I get my Presidential Pardon. If I leave, how will they get it to me? These are important details, Detective. A man in your profession should be familiar with the importance of the small details, one would think. The devil is in the details, haven’t you heard?”
“It’s over, man,” Walker said. “Agent Patterson stopped your guy in the Secret Service and…”
He motioned toward Jacks, who still had her gun trained on the suspect.
“As you can see, I was able to stop my partner before she hurt anyone. She’s beat your conditioning. She’s free. It’s over. How about those details?”
The Controller clapped his hands slowly.
“Well done, Detective. Well done.”
Gulley leaned back in his chair, his smugness on full display. He fought off a laugh unsuccessfully and held up a finger as if pausing everyone until he was finished.
“This is funny to you?”
“Oh, you have no idea, Detective. You see, and this part is what makes me laugh, you still aren’t paying attention. You’ve missed those oh so important details again.”
Walker raised the gun and pointed it in Gulley’s direction.
“And what details are those?”
The Controller leaned forward as if he were ready to reveal state secrets.
“Who told you Detective Jackson beat my programming?”
He smiled and Melvin Walker felt an icy sting run through him. He turned to ace his partner, hoping that it was all misdirection, that The Controller was simply playing games. He had freed her. He had gotten to her on tie. He had saved her.
Jacks was pointing her gun directly at him.
“Jacks?”
“I’m sorry,” Jacks muttered.
Her hand shook as she tried to fight the conditioning, but they had seen how powerful the Blood Shot formula was and how no one else had been able to break free from its hold.
Walker had believed that if anyone could beat the programming, it would be his partner, it would be Jacks.
He was wrong.
“There’s still time, Jacks,” Walker said, lowering his gun.
“No,” The Controller said. “Time’s up.”
A half second later, a gunshot echoed through the tiny interrogation room.
Thirty-six
Washington DC
Monday
Greg Gully, The Controller, was enjoying the chaos he wrought.
Detective Catherine Jackson was under his thrall, her hand shaking slightly as she pointed her service weapon at her partner, Detective Melvin Walker.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
Gulley didn’t like Walker. The rolly polly detective was no match for his partner in either the physical or intellectual realms. Jackson was younger, taller, thinner, faster, smarter, and a better detective than her partner. Gulley knew it. He was fairly certain Jacks knew it. Hell, Walker probably knew it too.
The Controller was quite taken with the fetching detective. It wasn’t just her looks, although she wasn’t lacking in that department. She was tall at six one, with long brown hair that held just a hint of red in certain light. She was stunning and Gulley had fallen hard. Not in a romantic way. But it was most definitely lust. As a man, he wanted her in the most primal way possible, but more importantly, as a man looking for someone smart enough to challenge him on an intellectual level, he wanted to best her.
So far, he was winning, but she wasn’t making it easy.
At first, he fought against the urge to dose her with the Blood Shot formula. If she was under his control, how could he beat her fair and square? It wasn’t until he realized that his identity had been discovered ahead of schedule that he decided to chance it.
As a precaution, he had coated some of her junk mail with the Blood Shot ingredients. On their own, they were not a threat, but once all three of the main ingredients were soaked into her skin, she belonged to him. The final ingredient was on the letter he had delivered to her, which was a foolish risk, he knew, but the excitement of being that close to her and still getting away was just too good to pass up. No doubt about it, he was drawn to her.
All it took to activate the good detective was a telephone call and an audio cue followed by a visual cue. He loved smartphones. They made delivering the final visual trigger too easy. All he had to do was call and tell her to look at the video he had sent her.
Technology really was taking all of the fun out of his work.
“So, Detective Walker,” Gulley said, feeling quite sure of himself. “This would be the part where you start begging for your life.”
“You wish,” Walker said, a quiver in his voice.
“Oh, let me guess. You think your bond with your partner there is so strong that there’s no way she could possibly pull the trigger, that she would never kill you. Are thoughts like those flitting through your tiny little brain right about now?”
Walker felt his jaw clench. He wouldn’t have told the man how right he was, wouldn’t have given him the satisfaction, but suddenly, he worried that Jacks was going to kill him. She was pointing her gun directly at him.
“Jacks?”
“I’m sorry,” Jacks muttered.
Her hand shook as she tried to fight the conditioning, but they had seen how powerful the Blood Shot formula was and how no one else had been able to break free from its hold.
Walker had believed that if anyone could beat the programming, it would be his partner, it would be Jacks.
He was wrong.
“There’s still time, Jacks,” Walker said, lowering his gun.
“No,” The Controller said. “Time’s up.”
A half second later, a gunshot echoed through the tiny interrogation room.
###
Samantha Patterson arrived at the facility holding The Controller.
Deputy Director McHenry had been taken into custody and was being checked over by a doctor. Agent Corwin had been rushed into emergency surgery, the President’s personal surgeon working on him. The final report she received before leaving the White House said that Corwin was expected to survive.
She hated leaving President Montgomery, but he was surrounded by Secret Service Agents, the number of which she had doubled on her authority. With Corwin and McHenry off the board, she found herself in the odd position of authority. The agents on protection were to double up, that way the president was never alone with only one agent at any time. Their thinking was that The Controller couldn’t possibly have gotten to all of the agents on staff.
Confident, the president was safe, Agent Patterson returned to finish interrogating their captive. She needed answers and Greg Gulley had them.
As soon as she stepped out of her car, she knew something was wrong. A car was parked near the entrance, the doors left open. She recognized it as the one Detective Walker had been driving earlier. She hoped its presence meant that he had gotten to his partner in time.
She pulled her gun free from its holster and proceeded with caution, her mind flashing back to her run through the practice range. With all that they had gone through the past couple of days, that seemed so long ago now.
Inside was eerily quiet so she made her way to the interrogation room.
The door was open, which set off warning bells in her mind.
She arrived just in time to hear The Controller say, “Time’s up.”
Catherine Jackson had her gun pointed at her partner.
Moving on instinct, Agent Patterson raised her weapon and fired.
The shot grazed the detective’s arm, throwing off her aim. She flinched and pulled the trigger, but the shot went wide and missed her partner easily, shattering a fluorescent bulb instead.
Walker leapt forward, clamping a hand onto the gun before Jacks could fire again. She struggled, but he held tight until he wrenched the gun out of her hand.
Thrashing about, Jacks threw Walker off and against the wall. Her gun clattered as it bounced off the linoleum floor. Somehow, he managed to hold onto his own weapon, though he was stunned by the impact and couldn’t use it.
Gulley pushed back from the table and scrambled to his feet.
“I wouldn’t,” Patterson said, her weapon leveled at him.
“I would,” The Controller said, venom dripping from each syllable.
Jacks wheeled around to face Agent Patterson. Fury burned in her eyes, like a feral animal trying to break free from its prison of civility.
“Stand down, Detective,” she ordered, putting every ounce of command authority she had into the directive.
Jacks grabbed at the sides of her head, her hands trying to claw away at something only she could hear. She screamed and fell against the conference table, pushing it toward The Controller.
Gulley was on the move.
Patterson was faster and had her gun trained on him again before he could make good his escape.
The Controller smiled.
“Game over, Gulley,” Patterson said. “You lose.”
He moved slowly, keeping the struggling Catherine Jackson between them. By all appearances, he was unarmed, but with Jacks under his thrall, Agent Patterson couldn’t take the chance he would hurt her.
“Can you help her?” Patterson asked.
The Controller’s smile widened.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You get me my deal and I’ll save her.”
Now it was Patterson’s turn to smile.
“I think you’re full of shit,” she told him.
“Can you really take that chance, Agent Patterson?” he asked, then pointed at Jacks. “Can she take that chance? What if you’re wrong?”
“The only thing Catherine Jackson has been focused on the past few days is stopping you. You’ve studied her. What do you think? Would she risk it if it meant getting you?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Patterson asked.
Nearby, Detective Walker pushed himself off the floor. He held a hand on the wall for support.
“Jacks would vote for you to take the shot,” he told Agent Patterson.
“That sounds about right.”
“You wouldn’t,” The Controller said, moving closer to Detective Jackson to use her as a shield.
Samantha Patterson pulled the trigger.
It was a crack shot. The bullet missed Jackson completely, but clipped The Controller in the right shoulder, rendering that side of his torso useless.
He stumbled back, giving her a cleaner shot.
Agent Patterson put a round through Greg Gulley’s left leg, dropping him to the time-faded linoleum where blood began to pool beneath the whimpering scientist.
###
Catherine Jackson looked down at the man who had caused her so much pain.
Her head was still pounding as I ready to explode and the room rocked back and forth like that blue liquid in the wave machine her father had kept on his desk when she was a little kid. It had always reminded her of being on a boat. She would stare at it until it made her seasick and she threw up.
Those childhood headaches hurt a lot less than the one she had at the moment.
The part of her that could still form a coherent thought knew that The Controller was down. Her brain screamed VILLAIN! when she looked at him and the primal part of her brain, the one that his chemical concoction had let free from its cage, screamed at her to finish the bad man.
“Kill him,” Jacks muttered.
“No,” Patterson said, standing at her side. “I didn’t kill him.”
“You should have,” Jacks whispered.
“He may be the only person who can help you.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Jacks turned away.
She wanted to sleep, to close her eyes and drift off into peaceful slumber. The tug of exhaustion was strong, and she was about to give in when two new players entered the room. She wanted to fight, but there was nothing left in her.
Jacks collapsed to the floor in a heap.
Instantly, Detective Walker was at her side.
Ted Brown and Richard Pearce entered the room carefully, not quite sure what was happening.
Agent Patterson groaned softly.
“Is everyone okay?” Pearce asked.
Agent Patterson looked at Jacks, barely conscious in her partner’s arms.
“Not even a little bit,” Agent Patterson said.
Thirty-seven
Washington DC
Tuesday
Catherine Jackson thought she hurt all over.
Then she tried to move.
Surrendering to the pain, she gave up and sank back into the too thin mattress beneath her, the cold plastic bar on either side of her giving her a chill. Like most people, Jacks was no big fan of hospitals, not liking to visit anyone in then and especially not to be there as a patient.
She made for a lousy patient.
Jacks opened her eyes, barely more than a slit, but enough to be blinded by the sunlight streaming through the windows and reflecting off the cream-colored walls of her private room. Her mother had spared no expense, nor had she spared her infamous temper, and got Jacks moved to a private room where the specialists she wanted to fly in could treat her daughter.
Jacks had been unconscious at the time, but according to Melvin Walker, her mother was ready to raise holy hell with the staff until the President of the United States walked into the room. Suddenly, Mavis Jackson was struck speechless, a feat Jacks wishes she had seen with her
own eyes.
Mavis Jackson, her mother, sat next to the bed. She had been at the hospital almost constantly since Jacks’ arrival, leaving only long enough to go home, shower, and change into another to die for outfit.
The whole family had been there earlier, even her sister, Elanya, who had flown in that morning. Her dad and baby sister, Charisma had taken a break to drive Elanya home to freshen up after her flight, grab some food, and rest before heading back to the hospital.
Mavis agreed to stay so there would be someone with Catherine at all times.
All Jacks wanted was peace and quiet, but she also did not want to argue with her mother.
There was a polite tap-tap-tap at the door and Doctor Daniele Lucas pushed her way inside. Doctor Lucas was in her mid-forties, but could easily pass for a twenty-something. She had flawless cocoa colored skin and kept her curly brown hair tied tight in the back while on duty, which only made her look younger. She knew Jacks well.
As a police detective, Jacks often found herself in the hospital, interviewing victims and their families, getting updates on wounded persons of interest, and on those rare occasions when an officer was injured.
Dr. Lucas had treated Jacks’ partner, Melvin Walker after his gunshot injury and she and Jacks had become friends over the years. Jacks had even come to her for medical advice from time to time.
“How are we today?” she asked around a big smile.
“Seeing you always brightens my day, Dani,” Jacks said.
“She always been this good a liar?” Lucas asked Jacks’ mom.
“You have no idea,” Mavis said with a playful grunt.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. So far, all of the tox screens look good. We still want to run a few more tests though.” She tapped a polished fingernail against her temple. “Make sure we clean out all that excess garbage you’re carrying around upstairs.”
“You’re gonna need a bigger dump truck,” Jacks said.
“Ha. Ha. Your daughter makes a terrible patient, Mrs. Jackson.”
“It runs in the family,” Mavis said.
“That time she broke her arm, I thought we were going to have to strap her to the bed, and I was afraid she was never going to recover after the miscarriage.”
