by J. T. Patten
“Careful Sean, you are using cop words now and that’s my lane.”
“I have an idea. Let’s get some shut-eye and sleep this off. I’ll check on Maggie first thing and get some arrangements made. I want this carpet pulled up and walls cleaned and painted tomorrow. I don’t want Maggie coming home to this.”
“OK, Sean. Go get some sleep. I’m going. I know the guy who works the backhoe at their cemetery and he said he isn’t covering them until tomorrow morning. Sean, these guys are a dead end. There is nothing left to do other than disgrace their remains.” Lars shrugged his shoulders, thinking it made perfect sense.
Sean found the idea to be ridiculous. It was dangerous. It was careless. It served no purpose other than some stupid way for revenge. Havens knew how to exact revenge on men and this was trivial. Amateurish. He brooded for another few seconds and realized it was the only thing they had in their power to do at this time. They were drunk. They were hurting inside.
“Let’s go. Wait. I have some gas in the garage.”
“Now you are with the program.”
Lars smiled and gave a little mini dance. He walked to a kitchen drawer and retrieved some wooden matches.
Part III
I am the hunted that stalks my aggressor
I am neurosis, I am the measurements used
When it’s time to choose which tools are proper
For the opportunity to break it loose
When it breaks, it’ll all come together now
Armageddon, just a change in the weather now
I am the one, I’ve come to let the pressure out
More human than human, so you can feel better now
Yeah, more human than human
—X-Ecutioners,
from “(Even) More Human than Human”
Chapter 30
The new orderly arrived for his first day at work in the intensive care and trauma ward. He showed the security guard his badge with an unfriendly demeanor of annoyed accommodation.
“New guy, huh? ICU I see.” The guard inspected the badge while sizing up the new employee. “Well, alright, Mr. Whittington. Do you know where to go?”
“Yes, sir.” The orderly looked around and down, not making direct eye contact with the security guard.
“Alright then. Have you worked in a hospital before? You look a little sharper than most of our orderlies. Better shape too. Military man?”
The orderly looked up. “Sir, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to be late.”
“No problem. I was in the Marine Corps for thirty years. You sure look like a military man. I’m sure I will be seeing you around then.”
The orderly nodded and continued walking down the corridor making the hard left that visitors and new employees typically miss on their first time to this wing.
“I’m impressed. You do know where you are going. Pretty good, new guy!” the guard called out down the hall. “I’ll see you around.”
A maintenance man approached the guard to check in. “Hey, Jose, man, just saw a new big ass orderly. Military man. No Marine. Looks Army. Probably fresh out. Think I will pay a visit this week to Meredith in HR upstairs and see who our new friend is. Be a good excuse to say hello. Wonder if she is still sweet on that new administrator. She still sweet on him?”
“Yo no se.”
“Mmmhmm. Well tell me this then. Why they starting a new guy at midnight shift? You ever seen that happen?”
“Man, I don’t see nothing. That’s your job.”
“Mmmhmm. Every soldier’s a sensor, Jose. You’re my soldier and sensor.”
“I’m just a janitor, boss.”
Harrison Mann tended to the wound he sustained from Brock then finished cleaning the basement of the rental home where he held his crazy captive. The wound wasn’t as deep as he had thought, but it still needed some stitches. He had a small kit with med supplies in the trunk. Harrison looked around the house. All traces of Brock’s short stay were gone. The bungalow was perfect for their ruse of frightening Brock as his meds had worn off and his mind reverted to its diseased state. Despite the success, their work was getting sloppy. Harrison didn’t like having to assume that Brock had bled out or broke his neck. He also didn’t like playing with nut jobs. He knew Brock was a freak and wondered if Draeger was as well.
This operation needed better tactical intelligence and more time on target. No more of these seat of the pants operations where they depended more on luck and fate. No more of these surprises like unexpected guests. That was for amateurs. It made Harrison feel like a criminal, not a soldier.
Even if they were supposed to look like amateurs, time constraints in planning would get them caught. He decided he would have to discuss this with Draeger. Harrison returned his focus to the situation before him and scanned his memory of the unfolded events. What else needed to be done to wipe this op from their hands? What traces could later come back to haunt them?
Confident that all had been taken care of, Harrison turned off the lights. Perfect tenants. The cash paid month-to-month lease would expire in two more months. Better call the landlord tomorrow to let them know the property was now vacated. It would be better to get someone else in here as soon as possible. No, he thought. Better to find some squatters to come in here. He could pass the word through a contact of his on the street. He had plenty of drug snitches still running around the area from a DEA stint he did locally. That would do the trick in less time. The landlord could keep the deposit.
Chapter 31
Draeger tossed and turned in his bed. There was a loud knock at the door. Moments later it became a pounding. Draeger could make out the verbal sounds but didn’t understand the language. He tried to move but couldn’t. Something was binding his legs. His head was foggy. He heard a crash as the door caved to the unrelenting visitors. Where was his gun? He remembered leaving it on the night stand beside his bed. He just needed to break free somehow. The men surrounded him now in swivel chairs, laughing. Draeger’s mind raced. Was it Iranian security? Lebanese Hezbollah?
An explosion blew the roof off over his bed. Men in white robes and black assault uniforms rappelled down the walls from the helicopter above. Draeger watched the metal casings cascading from the assault rifles. The woman beside him in the bed gyrated from the impact of the bullets. Her blood, exiting her body like liberated peoples, joined in the dancing.
A masked assaulter continued shouting in the foreign tongue as he unraveled plastic wrap to cover Draeger’s face. Draeger struggled to lift his hands into his line of vision. They were now bound by flexicuffs. The woman’s cold arm flopped onto his naked chest. Another assaulter began lighting a propane torch. Draeger couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. The men in chairs cackled harder. Left with no other outlet, Draeger opened his mouth to scream.
“Shit,” he muttered, at last escaping the blanket tangled between the couch cushions.
Draeger, with arms now free, wiped his sweaty face. His heart was racing. He ran his hands through his sweat-soaked hair and scratched the back of his head. A security panel on the wall still showed a steady glow of small red lights in a descending trail of secured zones. He looked at the clock on the cable box. It read 2:45. He had hoped it was much later but knew it was unlikely.
Great. A whopping hour of sleep.
To Draeger, this meant a number of things. First, he had had a bad dream just after entering REM sleep. He would have a few more short sleep sessions before sunup. Second, the night terror had not come yet. Most of the night terrors he could not recall. They were less vivid than his recurring dreams. His night terror would likely be next before he hit REM sleep again. His hands continued to perspire. His heartbeat was still strong but the stage-4 sleep cycle terror wake-up would send his heart racing to maximum output. He would awake disoriented and panic-stricken. He hated the night.
Draeger shut off the television’s muted flashing and closed up the main floor after making a cup of valerian root tea to put him to sleep.
> He went upstairs a soldier, ready to engage his enemy on the battlefield of his mind. He tried to process the dream as he climbed while reflecting on his day for potential triggers.
Shit, my whole damn life is a trigger. Gotta change the ending somehow. I can change it. I can train to win this. I have the training to beat my own head.
I’ll take the Prazosin pills tomorrow if I don’t sleep.
Draeger downed the tea, grabbed a pillow, and went to the guest room. He slid a heavy wooden chair under the door knob and assured it was a snug fit. He looked at the blankets on the closet floor and felt a sudden pang of shame at his situation. He was afraid that if he sought help the medical records and payment coverage would signal instability to someone. He’d lose his job and clearances. Fluffing his pillow and pulling up the blankets, Prescott Draeger solemnly closed his eyes with the same mental preparation that he would in a high altitude low opening parachute jump to go behind enemy lines. He closed the closet doors and felt secure in the tight space.
Chapter 32
Havens dashed the mobile phone against the concrete sidewalk in front of the hospital. The rugged OtterBox case bounced the phone onto the small strip of city grass. The sight relieved Havens, but he immediately regretted his impulsive tantrum.
It had been days since Christina’s funeral and burial. Maggie was still unresponsive and the doctors were concerned about her continued low brain activity. Now Havens was being told that in order to keep his job he would have to deploy yet again to the Middle East. Killing America’s top terror suspects had opened a Pandora’s box of seemingly random actors who were now targeting any key westerners that were within their reach. Libya was a concern and the boss needed him to go on an exploratory mission east of Tripoli. When Havens declined due to his daughter’s critical condition, to his shock, he was terminated. Jason had apologized but said it was beyond his control.
Insurance benefits would revert to COBRA continuing coverage but only for so long. With no job, Havens would have to start using his savings. Like many public sector employees, Havens had planned on moving to the private sector to take advantage of the higher pay rate in order to fill his coffers. For some reason, those coffers never seemed to fill as much as he’d like.
The phone rang from the grass. Havens could read the incoming caller’s name, CABLE GUY.
Prescott Draeger.
Havens picked up the phone and accepted the call by the fourth ring.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Hi Sean, how have you been holding up?”
“’Bout as good as expected.”
“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral. I just got back CONUS. I’m so sorry for Christina’s death, real shame. Sean, are they closer to finding anything more about the whole thing?”
“Thanks, Prescott. No worries. I understand. They have some hunches and the two or I guess three guys who were involved are now dead. Whole thing is crazy. The guy who killed them was some random Latino gang member who ended up getting shot too. Story is these guys were involved in drugs and the Latino was looking for them. After he found the two black gangbangers and shot them, their guys must have gone after him and killed him a few blocks away. Probably never get answers to everything. There was some other twist and I ended up getting another body in my house. It’s just all fucked up. None of it makes sense. Cops suspect the crazy guy paid some street thugs to kill her but they left something behind and he had to go back to get it.”
Draeger was surprised to hear the latest update. Well, now there is an interesting twist. Nice work CPD. Keep busying yourselves with the nonsense.
“And how is Maggie doing? I hear she is in a coma?”
“Yeah, they don’t even know if she is going to come out of it. Doctors keep saying we just have to keep waiting and monitoring her progress. Clearly it means they don’t know either.”
“Probably so, but I know they are top notch over there.”
“I suppose. Guess I should give them more credit.”
“I think asking questions and keeping them on their toes is always best. I am sure you are doing the right thing. How is work, they give you some time off then?”
“Yeah, just spoke to them. I have time off…permanently.”
“No way. You didn’t quit did you?” Draeger was loving this.
“No, they gave me some time but since I am foreign tagged I have to be able to deploy when called. They called and I can’t deploy. That violates the contract so they need someone else.”
“I thought you were government, though.”
Havens lowered his voice as if it would really stop someone from hearing over the unsecured line.
“Pres, I don’t know how they ended up spinning the thing. I was govie then not govie, signed all these crazy papers that made me an employee of some company, but then it still counts for some things and not for others. I think we outsmarted ourselves to cover our tracks and now I don’t even get a severance.”
“Can’t you raise that to the boss or program director?”
“Well, that too is a great example of our genius compartmentalization. I don’t even know who I report to. I have a handler that I report to but I only know people along the horizon of my group and no tiers above. I am tasked unwitting to the client or intermediaries. It was a brilliant idea until I got canned. I don’t have time to look for a job. And now Chicago is like the worst possible place I could be to find a job for the work I do.”
Havens sighed over the phone.
“Sorry, Pres, I didn’t mean to shovel my shit your way like some sad ass pathetic guy who lost everything.”
“Well Sean, you are a sad ass pathetic guy who lost everything, but fortunately for you, you did manage to keep a couple friends along the way.”
“Thanks, man. So what can I do for you or were you just calling to say hello?”
“Just calling to see how you’re holding up and to tell you I am coming through the area today. Can you break free for a bit? I can even meet you at the hospital if that is easier.”
“I could use the company, actually. I wouldn’t mind getting out of the hospital for a bit. I’ve been here every spare moment between attending to the funeral or making sure the house was getting put back together.”
“The shit you must be going through…I feel for you. Well I land in about five hours over there. Do you want me to meet you somewhere near the hospital?”
“Sure, there are a couple decent places we could go to. How long are you in for?”
“Just the night. I will book over at the old Palmer House. Always liked that place.”
Havens smiled having recently recollected his times with Jerry there in his younger days.
“Sounds good. You sleeping any?”
“Not much. Let’s talk when I get in. I’ll call you when I am about 10-15 out from your position.”
“See you then.”
“Out.”
Havens walked back in to the hospital to sit with Maggie some more. As Havens exited the elevator he saw the orderly standing at the door of Maggie’s room peeking in from the side of the frame.
“Can I help you?” Havens asked hoping to startle the lurking orderly.
“No,” the orderly replied, unperturbed. Walking away he added, “Just checking for linens,” without turning to Havens.
Satisfied, Havens sat back in his chair where he would wait until the evening when Draeger would arrive. He brushed his daughter’s hair with his fingers.
I’m just glad your mother didn’t see you like this.
He would sit for hours holding her hand hoping for a squeeze or any sign of movement. Looking for some sign of life.
Prescott Draeger finished his meeting with Harrison in his hotel suite at the Palmer House. Havens had introduced him to the hotel years back and found it suited him. He would call Sean in about thirty minutes from the hospital’s main entrance to start the pitch and hook process of recruitment.
Over the past few days during his restle
ss evening hours he reminisced about being at the Havens home. Christina was always very kind to him. Of all the men she was ever introduced to by her husband, Prescott was the only one she called by his full first name and not a nickname as the others would be called. She once told Draeger in one of their few exchanges before the guys headed down to the basement how she liked his name and enjoyed saying Prescott. Prescott, in turn, liked hearing her say his name. She was a beautiful woman with a penetratingly charming voice. Yet he maintained no illusion that her demeanor and attention to him was flirtatious. Christina Havens was just a sweet woman who was innately kind and devoted to her husband.
Their daughter, Maggie, was the same way. Maggie would always extend a casual hello from the kitchen table where she did her homework. Draeger had only engaged her once when he saw her writing a report on the significance of President’s Day. Prescott praised her for the topic choice but was chagrined when she responded that it was just assigned. Havens laughed, knowing how patriotic Draeger was, and chided him on it being simply a nice day off. By that time Maggie had disconnected herself from the conversation and continued on with her studies in another room.
On weekends when the men came by, it was not uncommon to see Maggie and her mother watching a movie together in the family room. They were a nice family and Havens was both appreciative of it and deeply attached. In Draeger’s mind, Havens was too attached to fully maximize his natural talents to rid the U.S. of its adversaries. Draeger would miss seeing Christina and hearing her say his name. No matter, he couldn’t have her. He could, however, have her husband. Draeger estimated that he would have Havens in his pocket in a matter of hours. He smiled as he rolled his shirtsleeve cuffs up.
Draeger called Havens twenty minutes early from the admissions area with the intent of flustering Sean a bit. Not expecting Draeger to be at the hospital so early, Havens rushed to the elevator so he wouldn’t keep his friend waiting. Havens lightly jogged through the long corridors navigating the labyrinth of paths and found his buddy, Pres.
