by Van Fleisher
They were both serious professionals in roles that could be quite dangerous, but they were also gregarious and approachable. So, it was not surprising that they hit it off almost immediately.
The two law enforcement agents ordered non-alcoholic drinks and began the process of understanding each other’s careers and lives: How long with the agencies – four years for Zoe and five for Demi; where they were from – Zoe from Lansing, Michigan, and Demi from Wallingford, Pennsylvania; where they went to school – Michigan State, Criminal Justice and University of New Mexico, Law for Zoe and University of Pennsylvania, Political Science and Columbia, MS in Sociology, for Demi.
Zoe explained her prime objective: trying to prevent Final Notice recipients from gunning people down, especially with an election year looming. Demi knew a little about the VT2 murders but was surprised and concerned about the potential size of the threat.
Time seemed to fly, and Zoe, reminded by a churning stomach, remembered that she’d missed lunch. She suggested they get something to eat, and Demi agreed, putting her hand on Zoe’s forearm as she made some menu suggestions. Zoe didn’t hear any of Demi’s suggestions, as the electricity generated by Demi’s touch took her back ten years to the first time.
***
Zoe had just scored two goals in her high school’s State Championship match, breaking a tie in the last minute. It was the first time ever that the girls’ soccer team had won in her Division, and she was flying high. After their short bus-ride back to the school to shower, they were all going to a sleepover at a Southern Colonial mansion with a pool and six bedrooms, rented by the parents of one of their teammates, Annika.
At the school, they showered and celebrated, shouting, screaming, laughing, and even crying. Zoe was enjoying the strong shower spray when Annika said, “Want me to wash your back?”
“Sure.” And that was the first time it happened.
Zoe was cute, athletic, and brainy, a combination that challenged a lot of guys. She also had an overly protective father. She wasn’t allowed to date until she was sixteen, and even then, she had an earlier than normal curfew. On top of that, anyone wanting to ask her out was required to have an interview with her father before the day of the date. One of the few guys who submitted to the interview told her later that it was more like a series of warnings about what her father would do to him if he tried anything too physical. As a result, Zoe didn’t date much; but for some reason, it never bothered her.
At the sleepover, still tingling by Annika’s touch on her bare skin, she sat down next to her teammate, who was sipping a glass of wine. Surreptitiously, Annika took hold of Zoe’s hand, down near the cushion, unseen from anyone. They talked about nothing and everything, and when most of the others were at the pool or passed out, Annika got up, towing Zoe behind her, and they disappeared into one of the six bedrooms that Annika had claimed as her own.
Door locked, Annika stayed in charge, kissing Zoe as she’d never been kissed before, while the tingling spread throughout her body. This was all new for Zoe, but Annika knew what she was doing, much to her inexperienced partner’s delight. Zoe entered that bedroom as a virgin, but by morning, she knew she was gay. She thought of her father’s concerns about her and boys and almost laughed, except that she wasn’t sure if he’d rather her be the school slut or a lesbian. And she didn’t want to find out. So, she stayed in the closet until she felt she could talk with him about it, but he died before that happened.
Once she began her path to law enforcement, she continued to keep her personal life private, enjoying an occasional night or weekend with Annika, who was also attending State.
***
Zoe was rattled by her reaction to Demi’s touch, and she looked into Demi’s eyes for any signs that the electricity flowed both ways. She had to be careful. Careers were at stake. So, they mostly talked shop, and when they left the Dirty Habit and said their good-byes, Demi took Zoe’s hand and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. Zoe wondered if Demi had held her hand a few seconds longer than “just friends.”
***
CHAPTER 4 – ONE DRINK AT A TIME
Quincy, Massachusetts. Alek Belikov sat at the bar in Sully’s on Chestnut Street, nursing a glass of vodka. He enjoyed the solitude and space to unwind from the intensity at work and avoid the loneliness at home. He knew that if he drank at home, with a bottle at his disposal, he wouldn’t stop until it was empty. Here, at least, he could exercise a bit of control, paying for each round as it was served and knowing that he still needed to drive home.
A slim, intellectual man with chiseled features and a sad look behind wire-rimmed glasses, Alek was employed at VitalTech and was part of the original team that developed the VT2. As a result, he had gotten to know Vijay well, held him in high esteem, and missed their more frequent interactions. He also missed the less formal culture that existed before the sale of the business to a private equity firm. He still enjoyed the mental demands of his job, as they kept his mind away from the grief that now quickly engulfed him when he wasn’t working. He was also able to work long hours, helping to keep the demons at bay, but some nights those extra hours led to painful reminders. Tonight had been one of those, which is why he was at Sully’s.
A long-time acquaintance and fellow Russian immigrant, Vik Vasin, plopped down on the empty stool next to him. Alek and Vik had lived next door to each other in nearby Allston, as children growing up together. As they progressed through high school, Alek focused on school while Vik hung out with a rougher crowd. During that time, they had grown apart but remained friendly with each other. Alek went off to MIT, and they had lost touch. Then, when Alek got a job at VitalTech in Quincy, they bumped into each other on occasion.
Perched on their barstools, side by side, their physical contrasts were as stark as their educational ones. Alek was of medium height, with a full head of dark hair, while Vik was shorter, much more muscular, with a shaved head.
Vik ordered a vodka for himself and another one for Alek. He felt for Alek. Although Vik wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, he still recoiled at the thought of losing a wife and child as Alek had. It had happened just over three months ago, and even Vik, who was no stranger to violence, was sincerely compassionate when he spoke with his childhood friend.
“Ya work late tonight?” asked Vik, avoiding the ‘how are you doing’ question. He knew the answer to that anyway.
“Yeah. I wanted to finish something I was working on. Easier than trying to pick up where I left off tomorrow morning. How you doing?”
“So-so. Win a few, lose a few.”
It occurred to Alek that he never really understood what Vik did. “Sorry, but my head hasn’t been fully in the game lately. What’re you doing these days?”
“Kinda a combination of import-export and financial services.”
“Big firm?”
“Big enough,” Vik replied, somewhat aggressively.
“Hey, sorry. I’m a scientist, so I’m curious,” Alek said. His effort to smile was palpable.
Vik tried to roll back his sharp tone, “OK. It’s a small company, privately owned. The people we work for like to stay … in the background. No big deal. How’re things at the Death Watch company?”
Alek grimaced at the nickname. “OK. We’re expanding the watch’s capability, so it does more than just tell people when they’re going to die … and tell time,” smiling more easily this time.
They downed their shots, and Vik ordered another round. Alek asked, for no particular reason, “If you knew you would die in ten days, would you kill someone?”
“Someone? Hell, I’d take out as many as I could before I went or got caught. I’d even take care of that motherfucker in Braintree for ya.”
Vik realized that he’d crossed a line, and the conversation died as they both downed their shots.
Alek broke the silence as he waved to the bartender for another round. “I wish I could do it. But I’d be their number one suspect, and then I’d spend the rest of
my life in an even worse hell. Plus, he’s in jail, and even if I could get in, I’m not sure I could do it. Maybe someone working in the jail will get their Final Notice, and I could bribe them to do it.”
Vik laughed. “That would be a cool coincidence. Has that happened? Someone paying a dying guy to bump someone off?”
Alek thought for a moment and replied, “I don’t think so, but if they’re dying, what would they gain?”
“I dunno. Money for their family, kids ...”
They sat quietly, nursing their shots.
This time, Vik broke the silence, “What if he gets off?”
Alek’s assessment of that possibility as less than zero helped him to stay calm as he asked, “What? You kill your wife, someone else’s wife, and two kids, and you get off?”
“I’m just sayin’ … a crooked judge, a jury member who don’t go along, a hot-shit lawyer who finds that the cops screwed somethin’ up. Hey, I’ve seen some weird things.”
Alek was trying to stay controlled. “The only thing keeping me halfway sane is that the motherfucker will go to jail forever, and the inmates won’t like that he killed two women and two kids.”
Another silence descended before Vik asked, “How many people use the death … uh, Final Notice … to bump someone off?”
“More than we’d like. There are millions of gun owners wearing our watches right now, and that was a real concern when we were doing the initial tests with only hundreds of users. But even the FBI said the watch did what a doctor does – gives a prognosis – so it’s up to the people what they do with their remaining time.”
“That makes sense, even coming from the FBI. I gotta go. I’ll take care of these,” nodding at the glasses. “Take care of y’self, I’ll see ya around.”
Alek sat there thinking about their conversation and especially Vik’s reaction when Alek asked about his work.
***
Three months earlier, in The Boston Globe:
4 Dead in Tragic Domestic Violence Shooting
Braintree, Massachusetts. A tragic shooting last night destroyed two families in an apparent act of domestic violence that is still being investigated. The information available at press time is that a Braintree resident shot and killed his wife and 12-year-old son in their home after what neighbors described as a horrific shouting and screaming match between the man and his wife. Another woman, who is thought to have been a friend of the deceased, was also killed along with another boy, believed to be her son.
According to a friend of one of the slain boys, the other boy had been visiting his friend and his mother had come to pick him up. The suspect has been arrested and taken into custody.
The following day, the paper carried a story with additional details.
Thomas Sheehan killed his wife, Mary Sheehan, their 12-year-old son, Shawn, Mrs. Anna Belikov, and her 12-year-old son, Luka, in a tragic shooting in Braintree. According to neighbors, arguments between the Sheehans were not unusual and were often heated. The altercation last night followed a typical pattern until the four shots were fired. Neighbors added that the police had been to the house many times in the past to quell the rows.
Mrs. Belikov, the wife of Dr. Alek Belikov of Quincy, had just arrived to pick up her son and had tried to calm Mr. Sheehan, even as he brandished a gun. Sheehan responded by killing all four of them.
***
Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts. Vijay had been devastated when he heard the news about Alek’s wife and son. Before he and his wife, Jennifer, attended the funerals, Vijay went to see Alek. Having worked closely with him for a long time, he wasn’t entirely surprised to find him in control of his emotions. At least, it appeared that way.
The two had met at MIT, and when Vijay started up VitalTech, he offered Alek a position. Vijay had also co-opted Alek onto his current team, developing additional health monitoring capabilities for the VT2. They worked from different locations, but they spoke regularly, and Vijay thought that Alek was doing OK, apart from being sad.
Jennifer knew Alek and his wife, too, and this senseless act of violence powerfully moved her. She and Vijay had initially established a foundation to promote gun safety and responsible gun ownership, but this tragedy was the catalyst that moved Jennifer to realize that their foundation had too narrow a focus. Vijay agreed, and Jennifer threw herself into working with local and national groups addressing domestic violence as well as gun safety groups.
***
CHAPTER 5 – SQUEEZE PLAY
Washington, D.C. It was late Friday afternoon, and Zoe got a text from Demi. “Having a few friends over this evening at 8. Hope u can make it. 900 7th St SW #14. Dxo”
Zoe read it over and over again, looking for anything that would give her a signal. The ‘xo’ was her favorite part, and at 8:15, fashionably late or on-time, she arrived. The building was new and impressive, and she rang the bell at apartment 14. Demi opened the door and invited Zoe into a very spacious and tastefully furnished living room. She wondered how she could ever reciprocate, given her own very small and spartanly furnished flat.
She looked around to take it all in, and Demi awkwardly explained that her friends canceled last minute, but that she was looking forward to getting to know Zoe better. Zoe preferred to think that her friends hadn’t been invited, but she feigned disappointment at not meeting them.
They sat on the couch, glasses of wine in their hands, and continued where they left off at the Dirty Habit. As the wine flowed, Demi wanted to hear more about Zoe’s VT2 project. That was solid ground for Zoe, especially as Demi was also in Federal law enforcement and understood the business. Demi expressed surprise that VitalTech was supplying information about the VT2 users. “Did you get a warrant to pry that from them?”
Zoe explained Vijay’s remorse that his invention was causing people to kill, to which Demi replied, “Most companies would do their own killing for profits. Hell, some of the pharma and agri-chem businesses are already doing it.”
Demi was moved by Vijay’s integrity when Zoe added that he was in the process of supplying even more data. To Demi’s question of what kind of data, Zoe held back and said, “That’s all I know. He’s still working on it.” And then she let out a big sigh, explaining and exposing her frustration at not being able to get ahead of the killers, especially with the escalated threats. Demi took her hand in sympathy.
Zoe’s internal monitoring system kicked back in with the physical contact, but she wasn’t sure if it meant anything, so she asked, “Are you seeing anyone?” and held her breath.
Demi casually replied, “Nothing serious. How about you?”
As Zoe replied, “No,” her desire, emotions, and possibly the wine, autonomously squeezed Demi’s hand and softly pulled her closer.
They leaned in, and their lips met softly at first; and when they finally disengaged, a good while later, they were out of breath and laughing hysterically … out of joy, happiness, and because they had both been playing a not-so-subtle game of ‘Are you, or aren’t you?’
For Zoe, it was reminiscent of that first night with Annika, and she felt fulfilled. She woke the next morning with a smile on her face and reached out for Demi, but found only sheets and a pillow. She checked her watch and was shocked that it was after 9:00 a.m. She realized it was Saturday, but her phone pinged 24/7. Where was it? She put on her shirt and walked out to the living room, which was flooded with morning sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, causing her to squint. Her olfactory senses finally came to life as she smelled coffee and something else good.
She rounded the corner to the kitchen area, and there was Demi, preparing an omelet alongside a plate of croissants and cantaloupe. Zoe thought she might be dreaming. Demi looked up and with a big smile said, “Well, good morning, sleepy head. So, I guess all the talk about the lazy FBI is true!”
“I can’t believe I slept this late! My phone usually gets me up.”
“It got me up, so I brought it out with me so you could sleep
.”
If there were any important calls, they were destined to wait. Breakfast and then some more bedtime came first.
***
Quincy, Massachusetts. Two days after running into Vik at Sully’s, Alek came home to his empty house, and just like every night for the past three months, ‘empty’ carried a huge emotional weight that he was barely able to lift. He knew he had to move, and move on, but just the thought of even going into Luka’s room was more than he could bear. It was hard enough to have Anna’s things in what was now his bedroom.
Among the day’s mail was an envelope that looked different than the annoying advertising that seemed to be all he received anymore. It was from a law office in Boston, and inside was a check, payable to Alek Belikov for one hundred thousand dollars. The check stub details included:
