Deadly Awakening

by G. K. Lund

She glanced back over her shoulder at me. “You have an odd type of amnesia, Reed. Shouldn’t basic skills be intact?”

  “How would I know?” Was phone use a basic skill now? “Anyway, stop calling me that. Ben is weird enough.”

  “Not used to it huh?”

  “No.”

  “Fine then, Ben. Try to help me with this will you?” She had pressed her fingers between the doors now, trying to pull them apart. I did as asked, mostly because I liked her better when she wasn’t sneering at me, but we didn’t manage to open the doors.

  “Damn it,” she hissed as we stepped back.

  “Now what?”

  She didn’t answer me immediately. Just looked around for a moment. Except for a few people walking along the street past the building, there was no one nearby who seemed connected with the company in any way. No help.

  Jones exhaled heavily and pursed her lips for a moment. “Maybe there’s another way in.”

  “Like an emergency exit?”

  “Yeah, or a—”

  An electronic sound interrupted her mid-sentence, and I noticed the doors moving behind her.

  “What the hell?” she exclaimed as she realized what I was looking at. The doors slid open, slowly, and no more than to provide a thirty-inch opening. Jones glanced back at me but found no answers there. I had none to give; I was probably more confused than her.

  Jones looked up and stared at a round little black orb mounted on the wall. “Okay then,” she said and stepped forward. She hesitated a moment before she slipped between the doors. I didn’t waste time in thinking anything through. There were too many odd things about this company and I needed to find its owner. What better place to search? I walked through the doors and stepped into the building after her. A couple of seconds later the doors slid shut. Both Jones and I stared at them a moment before she cleared her throat and turned around.

  “That is just creepy,” she said.

  “Thought I was creepy.”

  She shook her head. “I changed my mind, Ben. You’re just weird. That,” she pointed at the closed doors, “is creepy.”

  Chapter 32

  Our steps echoed in the high-ceilinged lobby as we were the only ones there. Since everyone had the day off, nothing but daylight guided our way past the empty front desk.

  “The elevators are behind the stairs,” Jones said and led the way. I followed silently, noting that she didn’t try to keep me out anymore. As I wanted to meet Mr. Winter and hear what he could know about my predicament, I made no move to annoy her further. I briefly thought of Peter’s slurred words earlier. As I had gotten him into the cab, I’d realized I had no idea where he lived, so I had simply taken him to Old Ben’s apartment. He had been out of it pretty much the whole way there, managing to half-walk, and look like a drunk to anyone noticing. As I had managed to steer him toward the couch, he’d asked where I was going. When I’d told him, he’d shaken his head vigorously to the point of almost throwing up. His words came out jumbled, but the meaning had been clear. Things were getting out of hand – going after the city’s most respected and richest man was a bad idea. I should be thinking about getting better instead of all this running around after crazy people. I assumed the last part was directed at Param. Still, I did not have the luxury of thinking about what was customary or not. I didn’t care. So I followed the detective into the elevator and hoped she was wrong about Winter being missing. She had been wrong about me, hadn’t she? At least regarding the whole murder thing.

  As the elevator doors slid open we stepped into an office space lit with more than daylight. Faint buzzing from the fluorescent lights was audible due to the deserted floor. Jones took a right and I followed her, walking among large glass walls that mostly revealed offices where the lights were not on. It was a stylish and almost sterile environment, which probably didn’t allow for much privacy.

  “Ms. Bishop,” Jones said and sped up a little. I saw the green-eyed woman walking with hurried steps down a long narrow glass hallway almost toward us. She headed for a small archive section outside an office where she pulled a drawer open. She was elegantly dressed in a dark pin-striped suit, her hair tied back in a chignon. At the sound of Jones, she visibly stiffened but continued searching for something in there anyway.

  “Fancy seeing you here,” Jones added, slowing her pace as we reached the other woman. “Someone told me you weren’t in the building.”

  “They were wrong, Detective,” Ms. Bishop said as she found what she was looking for and pulled a piece of paper out. “How did you get up here anyway? You’re trespassing.” She gave the heavy drawer a push and it closed with a bang.

  Jones shrugged. “Door was open.” Oh, I liked her more and more. “Anyway,” she continued, “This is Ben. He’s a… reporter, and he is looking for your boss. Is he still… not available?” Her pauses were not put there by mistake; still, I chose to ignore the snide inference directed at me. Especially since it was spot on.

  Ms. Bishop looked at me and recognized me, though it took her a moment to recall from where. “You were here asking about the Moreau Foundation. Why do you want to talk to Mr. Winter?”

  “I’ve been told he might be able to help me.”

  Ms. Bishop pressed her lips together a moment, a slight nod before her face revealed no more. “Perhaps. Depends on what you need help with. But he is not here today.”

  “Nor any day, it seems,” Jones chimed in. “And I am here to talk to you, Ms. Bishop.”

  “As you can see, Detective. I am busy today. You’ll have to make an appointment with my assistant like anyone else.”

  “Since I’m here to arrest you for your part in a murder, that won’t be possible.”

  Ms. Bishop’s eyes revealed nothing, though she stopped her movements. No more subtle steps in the direction she had wanted to go. “Don’t be absurd,” she told Jones.

  “I assure you, I’m quite serious.”

  Ms. Bishop’s striking eyes glanced between us, though there was no help or explanation to get from either of us. Especially me. What had I managed to be part of? I had no interest in this. I only wanted an explanation as to where her boss was.

  “What exactly am I being accused of?” Ms. Bishop finally asked.

  “Conspiring to kill a man named Dimitri Okanov. To make sure it happened you hired one of your own security personnel to see to it.”

  “This is ridiculous, Detective. I have no idea who this Okanov is. Why would I want him dead?”

  “He attacked your boss in that office over there.” Jones half turned and pointed to an empty office behind us, nearer the elevator.

  “What?”

  “And then you got Mr. Cooper to get revenge for you.” Jones got her phone out, tapping the screen quickly.

  “Are you serious? Do you even hear how insane you sound? This is nothing but harassment, I—”

  “It’s a little short,” Jones interrupted her, preoccupied with looking at her phone, not Ms. Bishop. “Cooper didn’t record until you had been talking a while, but I’m glad he had the wherewithal to do it at all.” She held the tiny machine up for us to hear a recording as the phone lay flat in her hand.

  “For the sake of the company, Alwin.” Ms. Bishop’s voice was a little muffled like the microphone had not been directed at her during the recording.

  A nervous male voice I didn’t recognize came next. It had to be Alwin Cooper. “But you’re asking me to kill him, Ms. Bishop. I don’t—”

  “Listen to me, Alwin. This can’t wait. I just saw him leave. Right down there.”

  “But—”

  “Did I not help you when you failed your test?”

  “Yes.”

  “You still have a home here. You always will. And tonight that home was attacked.”

  There was silence for a moment, no sound coming from Jones’ phone except the rustling of one of them moving a little.

  “What do you want me to—”

  And then there was no more. Likely Coope
r had turned the recording off when he decided to help. Ms. Bishop stared at the cell phone a long time before her eyes moved up and met Jones’. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about this?”

  Chapter 33

  “I need to take you down to the station,” Jones said and was met by the patient smile on Ms. Bishop’s face.

  “That may be,” she answered, “but if you want to hear what I have to say, then I prefer to say it in here.” She opened a glass door that led into a large conference room. Jones took a moment to consider. She wanted to bring Ms. Bishop with her back to the station, but she also wanted the woman to talk. In the end, she agreed by entering the room with me in tow as Ms. Bishop smiled and ushered me in. Strange, since she thought I was a reporter. Still… if she could shed some light on her boss’ whereabouts, I didn’t mind much.

  Jones and I took a seat on one side as Ms. Bishop chose the other, almost at the head of the table. Her loyalty was unwavering.

  “So, Saphia… can I call you that by the way?” Jones barely glanced toward her at this, as she put her phone on the table. “I’m going to record this.”

  “Of course,” Saphia said. She leaned forward, elbows on the table as she took us in with those radiant green eyes.

  “Why don’t you start by telling us what happened?”

  Saphia shrugged slightly, a graceful movement. “I saw someone attacking Ward that night. I wanted revenge, and I had the attacker killed.”

  “Are your suspects usually this helpful?” I whispered to Jones who answered by kicking me under the table. I grimaced from the unexpected pain that raced up from the ankle to the brain. None of this fazed Saphia in the least.

  “Why have the attacker killed? Did your boss die?”

  “You don’t believe that do you?” Saphia smiled and leaned back in her chair, one hand resting on the table. She was utterly relaxed. She showed no fear in confessing to the police.

  Jones shook her head in the negative. “No. Not really. Alwin Cooper does though.”

  “He would. If he allowed himself to believe otherwise I’m sure the guilt would be too much.”

  “But not for you?”

  Saphia considered this, her head tipping from side to side. “No. Ward was attacked. The intention was murder. They will try again.”

  “Who will?”

  “No, no, Detective. That isn’t relevant, and besides, it’s above what you deal with.”

  “Very well. We can get back to it later. You used Alwin. He failed his drug test six months ago and you knew. Is that why you let him stay on? So you could pressure him to do dirty work for you at a later time?”

  “No.”

  “He began using again when his girlfriend left him. Must have been easy to sway him. Did you bat your eyes at him and give him a new chance? You have a soft spot for users, don’t you?”

  Saphia sat up again, her back straight as she stared at Jones whose face was passive despite the words she sent flying over the table.

  “What?” I blurted, the body being ever treacherous, but this time Jones didn’t kick me.

  “Saphia’s husband, Kirk, died of an overdose nine months ago. I guess the pressure of corporate business took its toll. Or was it married life that did it?”

  “Shut up,” Saphia hissed from the other side of the table. She placed her hands flat on the cool metal surface of the table and leaned forward, her green eyes almost flashing in anger. It was fascinating, I thought. Jones’ crude words and insults had changed the other woman’s calm demeanor and steely control in very little time.

  “Is that why you let Alwin stay on? You have a no-tolerance policy as far as I know.”

  Saphia inhaled slowly and then exhaled. Her smile returned, but there was no warmth in it. “I gave him a new chance because people need that sometimes. You should know, Detective. Isn’t this your second chance?”

  Whatever she alluded to, Jones did not bite. “You certainly wrecked his second chance by turning him into a killer.”

  “That was his choice.”

  “No. You pressured him. He felt indebted to you.”

  “It was still his choice. I asked him, and the last I saw of him that night was him grabbing a hammer from a toolbox by the security checkpoint downstairs before he headed in the direction the attacker had taken.”

  “And your boss?”

  Saphia shook her head. “Stopped by the office next morning before heading to his estate outside the city.”

  “Must have been a shock.”

  “Well… a relief as well.”

  Jones nodded as I leaned toward her. “Why is she so helpful?” I certainly hadn’t been. I had wanted to avoid human punishment by all means when Jones suspected me. “Why isn’t she asking for a lawyer?”

  I got kicked again, bit the lower lip to stay the pain.

  Saphia only laughed as she obviously heard me. “It’s good to confess your sins sometimes, Mr. Reed. And besides… a lawyer would only be another witness.”

  “Another witness?”

  “It’s a little late to try something foolish now, Saphia,” Jones said, her voice sharp. She appeared calm, hand resting next to her phone on the table. Her other hand though moved from her lap toward her holstered gun under her jacket.

  “Oh, don’t worry, Detective. As you can see, I’m unarmed.” She raised her hands from the table to emphasize this, and I could sense Jones relaxing marginally beside me.

  “No,” Saphia continued. “I don’t have a gun. Don’t even know how to use one. There is a reason I sent Alwin after the attacker… Okanov as you called him. You see… I’ve been the target of that man’s employers before, and I don’t intend to be again. Prison… is an excellent place for them to find me.”

  “Saphia?” Jones said, her face a mask of obvious suspicion. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Of course not. Recruiting Alwin was a mistake made in the heat of the moment, but I usually think these things through.” Her smile returned fully as she moved her right hand closer to the surface, though not quite. I leaned forward to see what she was doing as she raised her wrist, while her fingers remained splayed above the metal.

  The only thing I heard after that was Jones’ half-spoken: “Hey, what are you d—” as emerald green light flowed from Saphia’s hand and down to the table, lighting it up in the same color. A crackling sound filled the room, and the light spread – no, not light, lightning.

  It connected with the table and spread through it before it struck us, entering our bodies, a scream of excruciating pain shooting through me and Jones, as it knocked us back and off our chairs. I barely remember landing on the floor, the crash into the hard surface hardly anything compared to the shock of pain already running through me. The air around me was sharp and metallic, it burned the nose, and I had a tinny taste in the mouth. The body jerked and convulsed on the floor, the pain overriding everything, as I noted a clacking sound. Shoes walking around the table. Saphia coming to inspect her damage. With the sight of the green lightning running on repeat inside the head, the brain trying desperately to comprehend what had happened, I passed out, thankful for the escape.

  Chapter 34

  The eyelids fluttered as the body, not I, tried opening them. The pain was still numbing, a dull, yet tense sense of pain that had taken hold of the whole body, a blanket of agony shrouding it. Why did it want to wake up to this? For once I wanted the dark oblivion of unconsciousness. There was no pain there. Still, the carbon-based vessel defied me and forced me back to consciousness. The fluorescent lights hurt the eyes, but my attention was drawn elsewhere as I sensed movement nearby. I turned the head, noting that the thing was obeying now. The pain might be excruciating, but the body was working at least.

  Saphia had entered the room, dragging an unconscious Jones after her. The strain caused her to walk with stunted movements as she walked backward. She dragged Jones toward me and let her lie next to the thick leg of a desk. It took me that long to realize I was handcuffed to the
other leg. It was a big and sturdy piece of furniture, carved from oak. For Jones, Saphia found some rope and tied her hands to the other leg, as she began waking up. Satisfied with her job, Saphia stepped back and smiled as she took in the sight of us, her breathing from the strain of dragging Jones returning to normal. It dawned on me that she had mistaken me for the biggest threat as she had taken care of me first and used the detective’s handcuffs on me. It almost made me laugh, but the pain stopped that. I noted a metallic taste on the tongue, most unpleasant, and grimaced instead.

  “What the hell?” Jones mumbled beside me as she came to. She squinted her eyes as she looked around. “Where are we?”

  “Ward’s office,” Saphia said as she grabbed her blazer from a nearby table that stood next to a large gray couch. “Don’t worry. You won’t be here long. Just until it’s safe to move you.” She grabbed a tablet as well and began tapping the screen. Most of the lights on the floor went off. From outside the building, it wouldn’t look like there were people there.

  “Saphia… listen to me,” Jones said as she tried to sit up. She groaned in pain but managed to sit halfway on her side as her hands were tied down beside her. “I’m a police officer. Do you understand what you have just done?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Saphia said; like she hadn’t even heard Jones. She walked out, the door closing slowly behind her.

  “You alright?” Jones asked me as she closed her eyes a moment. She drew a deep breath through her nose and opened her eyes again. Focusing hard on staying alert.

  “No,” I managed to croak. I didn’t even try to sit up. I felt paralyzed with the pain. The smack the elbow had gotten at Param’s house seemed like nothing now. This was on a whole other level. I remembered fusing with the body the day Jones had found me by the river. This was not quite the same, but not far from it either.

  “Shit. Do you have a heart problem or something?”

  “What? No. I… the pain.” I grimaced, the mouth twisting into a bizarre grin, the corners of it going straight out to the sides, the teeth clenched. I made no move to get up.