by Tiana Laveen
“Exactly.” He patted the table, showing his straight, pearly white teeth. “We like that, we like that a lot. You took it upon yourself to get professional help to get the job done, not just rely on the police. You went above and beyond.” He grinned again, the flirtation still heavy in his smile. “In this situation, however, we need you to be just yourself. No make-up needed...just the natural you.”
Jayme nodded. Her stomach began to knot as her nerves got to her again. She was star struck. These were the type of guys she’d always wanted to grow up and be, never dreaming it could be possible. Nevertheless, the man’s subtle flirtations weren’t because he was genuinely interested—or hell, he may have been, who really knew?—but because he was trying to create a vibe, a safe scenario, and Jayme immediately recognized it as such. She was no dummy, and was fully aware that they required her street savvy reputation—something that couldn’t be purchased, trained, rented or downloaded like a Netflix movie. You either had a rapport with the people of D.C., or you didn’t. Like the murderer the FBI wanted caught, dead or alive, it was soon realized that Jayme was a triple threat. She was savvy, excellent at her job and could morph into whatever character was required. She had this on lock. Period. Point. Blank.
“So you see, Officer Knight, this is how’d we approach this. We have taken over the case and would like to give you some preliminary information.”
“Of course.”
She folded her hands over her knee as Agent Bryant rose from his seat and approached the front of the room. Heavy cream curtains mechanically drew, shrouding the light on the sixteenth floor of the building, cloaking them in matte darkness as the light from a projection screen illuminated. For the next hour, Jayme was given confidential, insider information regarding the serial killer, ‘XXX’.
“There are no eye witnesses that are willing to come forward. If you look at just paperwork from your department, and our preliminary investigation, you’d think no one saw anything, ever. There is no way that someone could commit these sorts of crimes, some out in the public eye, and not be seen. So, we know witnesses exist—and that is where you come in.” He pointed at Jayme, a stern look on his face.
“The only description we have is vague, and it’s from a fuzzy security camera shot from two years ago. He is described as 6’2, cropped black hair, possibly Hispanic. Broad shoulders, angular face, dark eyes. We believe this man, or team, has been all over the world, even Russia, committing similar crimes. The murders have become more violent in recent history and the victims are always branded with three ‘X’ marks either on their face or neck. Ninety-two percent of the victims are big time drug dealers, Officer Knight. This man is somehow able to get close.” He shook his head and paused as if he were emotionally taken aback. “We don’t know if these are vigilante kills or if there is another objective at work here. Whatever it is, we have to figure it out as it will help us capture him. Before I continue, do you have any questions?”
“You said ninety-two percent of the victims are involved in the drug trade. We lost two men because of this man—two men that I knew.” Jayme hung her head, temporarily masking her anger, then looked back up, her eyes narrowed. “Who makes up the remaining eight percent?”
“Well.” Agent Bryant pushed his hand in his pocket and sighed. “The two officers you mentioned, another police officer in L.A., a limousine driver in New York, a prostitute in Amsterdam and three gang members in China, who, from what we can tell, were not dealing narcotics. All of our international information comes from the C.I.A. There are also a few more, but they fall into one of those categories. And, for all we know, there could be more; that is what makes this all the more difficult. No one wants to be involved, no one on the street wants to snitch, especially against a drug dealer and his posse, dead or alive.”
Jayme nodded in understanding.
“Officer Knight, this is a very dangerous mission. One bad move, and there is no doubt in my mind, he will kill you. From the way these killings occur, he doesn’t have a propensity to hesitate. He doesn’t show fear or remorse. In spite of how many crimes he has committed, he is still being quite careful, which is not customary. Everyone has a downfall, however.”
“Yes, everyone, even this person, or people, can be caught.” She tossed a glance toward the other two agents, then looked back at Agent Bryant.
“We are hoping that the marks he leaves on the bodies demonstrate a need for attention. A person who is driven for recognition wouldn’t want their crimes to go unnoticed or the wrong person to be given credit.”
“And obviously you don’t want to give a false news lead to the media that the murderer has been apprehended, because that could backfire and cause a slew of more murders so he could prove you wrong.”
“Exactly. We toyed with that but it’s a slippery slope. At first, it could work out in our favor. It could force him to mess up—and we catch him or force him to alert the D.C. police of their error, which of course we’d want, but that could also force him or someone from his group to more than likely kill again to prove the false claims to be, well...false.” He flipped to a slide, showing the number of murders committed in each country around the world.
Jayme stifled her reaction, but she felt her stomach churn.
This bastard is unbelievable.
“And that is just the tip of the iceberg... We know for a fact that there are at least twenty-three bodies missing. We cannot yet determine if he did it or not but they were all drug dealers and killed around the same time frame as others in the vicinity. Before we continue, I want to reiterate that nothing we speak of is to go outside of this room.”
“I wouldn’t, never.”
Agent Peterson cleared his throat, causing Jayme to look in his direction. He cupped his chin, deliberating long and hard before he spoke. “Officer Bryant has laid out this preliminary information for you, but I want to say right here, for the record, that if by chance, Officer Knight, you get lucky,” a slight smile budded across his face, making Jayme rather uncomfortable, “and find yourself confronting him...be careful. Be very careful. Don’t try to be a hero. Make sure you call us. Don’t try to take him down by yourself. Don’t even approach the man. As good as you are,” he shrugged, “you’ll fail...and you’ll die. No disrespect, but you’re just not capable to take him down solo. Yet you’re perfect for our needs, your skillset is still much sought after.”
Jayme rubbed her arm and averted eye contact. She didn’t like the man’s tone, what he said, what he didn’t say—the underlining meaning and this whole get up. She didn’t like how the conversation was going at all and she was pissed that her dream assignment was turning into an attack against her credibility and logical reasoning.
If you all were so good at this, if you knew all about this son of a bitch, you would’ve already caught him.Two of my colleagues are dead, and you still don’t know who the hell did it. I want him just as much as you. Why would I bungle this?!You think because I’m a woman I can’t hang? Well, we will just see about that, now won’t we?
But she kept the thoughts to herself, threw on a smile, and secretly seethed...
****
Two weeks later...
“We need you to try Phase II now, on an experimental subject.”
“But I don’t have the situation under control.” Xzion sat up in his bed, glaring at his computer screen as the crisp, white sheets bunched around his legs.
“I know, but it is imperative that we do this. There are over a thousand sick, Xzion. Their databases have been infected. They can’t even recall their own name. They are in quarantine. We will not survive if this continues. We’re losing too many, too fast.”
Xzion sighed. He knew what this meant, but there was no need to try to convince Aton otherwise. “I understand. I need the rest of the equipment to synthesize and purify the sample. I don’t have everything in the lab. I could create something, but...”
“It will be taken care of.”
“Okay. When would
you like this completed?”
“As soon as possible. I will send you the synthesizing equipment immediately. It takes approximately thirty minutes to change the blood over. In your training, you completed it in twenty-three minutes—that’s your fastest time. Afterward, I will need you to send the results back to me for analysis. I will let you know if the coolant is effective, though I’m certain it will be.”
Xzion nodded. He didn’t like being under such time constraints. He was far more laid back than this, albeit a planner to the finest of details, but he understood that his people were in peril, so a change of plans had to be made sooner rather than later. Infiltrating and getting close to many of the U.S. drug lords proved far harder than he’d imagined and was taking up so much time that Phase II was not even a blip on the radar, and it was all because of America. The other countries he toured weren’t easy, but America was worst of all.
He now understood why this area of the planet, despite their dismal scholastic scores, gluttony of power, food and prestige as compared with many other parts of the world, was still a top three power-house. Test scores didn’t have shit to do with it; the United States aristocrats were deceitful, cunning and believable. Everyone knew who Gaddafi and Bin Laden were. There was no mystery to their reign of terror, but the F.B.I and C.I.A.—that was a different bag of bones altogether. Identifiable enemies are not the worst of the lot. The worst are the ones that befriend you, look prim, proper and polite then snatch your life away, leaving you fucking breathless and gasping for redemption before you have a clue as to the full of extent of what the hell just happened... With these, you have to constantly watch your back or you’d just might find a knife in it.
Corruption ran deep; wolves in sheep’s clothing ran deeper. These hidden players treated drug money like top, secret military parcels, because essentially, they were. The government was more corrupt than the dealers—the biggest mafia, drug ring, dynasty, and parliament all rolled into one, yet the bulk of the population appeared to be clueless to this strange yet true phenomena. No one seemed to truly understand how the drugs were getting into their country, the land of the enslaved, and home of the cowardly. No one seemed to notice who really had control and who really gave a damn about the human condition of narcotics addiction. Xzion didn’t understand it either...
All he knew for sure was that the root of the issue for the user was emotional—and that was so extraneous to him, he couldn’t wrap his arithmetical brain around it... But he did understand the dealers down to their basic core.
His planet had also suffered a time or two from the actions of tyrants wishing to wield control and possess the most power, be the dominant of the group. However, as they evolved as a people, they wished for peace, and did only what was necessary to survive. This evolution caused them to become physically weaker, and most of the warriors of their clan died out. Where there wasn’t a need, it was soon replaced, but fine-tuned intellect didn’t stop death—only made one more acutely aware that the grim reaper was coming...
Xzion had studied the formula, how to create and implement it, and he completely understood the human body and brain functionality. He watched the effects of alcohol on the mind and the corrosion of muscle tone, and even how it destroyed key white blood cells in developing fetuses. He watched the ill effects on crack addicted mothers as well, and absorbed the information, but to him, it was strictly scientific. He understood that humans cried at such horrid events, however, he considered it all misguided weakness. Tears didn’t wash away shit. How did tears help? The addict would just turn around and use again, so what good was the wasted emotion that forced the watery sins out of one’s eyes? They kept on, still hell-bent on consuming mind altering hallucinogens proven time and time again to usher one to one’s grave—yet they do it all the same, even with a fetus growing inside of them, a mother begging them to stop or children being whisked away by Child Protection Services.
How one could knowingly ingest something that could render them a fraction of their highest potential due to a broken heart, dashed dreams or crushed spirit, was beyond his comprehension.
The addict of alcoholism was, albeit not ideal, easier for Xzion to manipulate. The drug effects eventually wore off, and the subject was, many times, still able to be controlled, even under the influence. Alcoholism brought on a slow death, while its cocaine, crack and meth counterpart ripped the subject to shreds within a fraction of the time. The human body was incredible, and though he admired many aspects of it, the emotional ties it had to endure made him queasy. Those under the power of crack, cocaine, heroin or meth were volatile and no seizing of the mind was even remotely possible.
Their brain began to warp, the functionality permanently diminished and the quality of their blood oftentimes severely impaired. Synthesizing, for the hardcore heroine and meth user, would take upward of two hours in some cases and even then, the extraction and harvest may still render lackluster results. He hated them all—the alcoholics, who he’d have to purify to death with a gas mask on if they were hard-core drunks. The damn spirits had a way of fermenting and pickling them; they stunk, and never even seemed to know it. There were issues with the entire lot of them, but this was the nature of his business.
Xzion made his way to his dresser, cool air escaping his lips as he stepped further into the ice enclosure. His bedroom had temperature controls. He’d found out that there was such a thing as too cold, so after he’d received relief, he’d adjust as he saw fit. Removing a neatly folded sweater and pair of jeans from the drawer, he closed it shut. He stood in front of a mirror and meticulously dressed himself, turning in various directions as if he were preparing for a date. He grinned, now eager to see who he could hunt for this evening’s events. The equipment to synthesize would arrive soon and he’d be expected to perform. It was easy to beam down equipment—no heart rate to monitor, fuel levels to watch or brain conditions to evaluate.
He grabbed his sneakers, a green and white pair of Nikes, and placed them on. Standing erect, he posed, winked at himself and exited the door on the quest for his latest victim...
CHAPTER THREE
“We gon’ start this shit out right, we got Jayme Knight in tha house tonight!” chanted the smiling DJ as he rallied the small crowd.
The people paraded around laughing and clapping to the classic hip hop beat, swarming in clusters as they danced. In the last two weeks, Officer Knight was given congrats by most, experienced envy from many and received roadblocks from some. Each morning, afternoon and evening, she consumed information from the F.B.I as if it was her breakfast, lunch and dinner and attended pressing meetings with the district attorney. Life flew by at warp speed, and it was time to unwind before she went out canvasing the town at three in the morning. Her ‘ON’ switch was flipped—the FBI had officially set her loose. Now, armed with more leads, she was better prepared. On her initial jaunt, she was greeted with smiles from the local familiars but as she began to ask questions about the ‘XXX’ murderer, she was shunned, much to her surprise...and boy did word spread fast. Soon, she was greeted with doors closed in her face, unreturned calls and the occasional, “Bitch, please!”, “You 5.0., I ain’t telling you a damn thang!” or, “I ain’t seen shit, bye!”
She had a new plan—a new circle of people to question, and she’d use what she had to get what she wanted. Jayme was determined to make a difference in this stagnant case. No one was gaining ground, and time was ticking. She was up for the challenge. It didn’t make her happy, but one deserved the other. This guy was far more dangerous than anyone she’d arrested and put behind bars. He was more treacherous than if the streets came alive, became a person, and sought retribution.
Nevertheless, she didn’t have time to waste or lose, and this quick shindig Wanda had thrown her at the local watering hole, ‘KJ’s Place’, was not her thing. She’d nursed the same gin and tonic all evening, and added plenty of ice. She needed to be on full alert, but Wanda insisted, due to her mounting frustration over the
lack of a lead and in celebration of her untied leash from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, that she unwind for a few and kick her heels up with the town favorite.
“Come on, Jayme!” Wanda grinned as she spun her friend around, dancing in circles to old R&B favorites. “You have to get into the moment!”
Junior crooned out, ‘Mama Used To Say’ over the thumping speakers.
Jayme shot her a weak smile and disengaged, immediately going back to the plastic, wobbly red seat in the corner. The plywood walls were plastered with time-warped alcohol ads, such as Billy D. Williams holding a Colt 45 beer, and sun-faded musical group posters such as the S.O.S. Band and Jodie Watley. The whole place had the feeling of a club that hadn’t been updated since 1986. Yet, despite being filled with colorful huge Christmas bulb lights and a slight musty smell, it was still home and the people there always welcomed her with open arms.
T.S. Monk serenaded, ‘Bon Bon Vie’, making all the old-school macs twist their hips back and forth, dangling cheap, skinny bottles of beer and doing ‘the bump’ as their intoxication loosened their inhibitions. It was fun, it felt good, and all that was missing was the spandex, slick jheri curls and sparkly halter tops. KJ’s was a time warp, and that was why so many of the forty and up crowd loved it. Jayme, however, was an old soul and this was one of the places she dashed to, to try to forget the bruised ladies, the D.O.A.s, the endless coroner reports, and now, branded, spliced bodies that were so cleanly cut, it seemed the person was either a surgeon or their fingers were like a damn knife set. Either way, she had to get past this and get back to work, but first, her mind needed to be at ease.
