by Ramy Vance
“Whoa,” Reuben muttered.
The woman was in her mid-twenties, tall, with long, lustrous legs that flexed when she moved, huge brown eyes, and voluminous dark hair that hit her mid-back. With one manicured finger, she flicked her hair across her shoulder. She wore a pink-and-black negligee and thigh-high black boots. Every movement screamed sex.
“Hi, Reuben.” She greeted him with a smile that seemed to say he was the only man she would ever have eyes for. “I’m Binnie. It’s nice to finally meet you.” Then, in a soft voice, “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’m sorry.” He did a back and forth between Buzz and the woman. There was something odd about her movements. Stilted, like a drunk trying to act sober. “Is she…”
He wanted to ask if she was real, but it seemed terribly impolite because he honestly couldn’t tell if she was a normal human or one of Buzz’s weird experiments.
He looked at Buzz for a clue, but he didn’t say anything.
“Am I what?” Binnie asked. “Real?” She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look. But again, there was something off about the whole thing. It was like she was acting mad rather than actually angry. It reminded Reuben of cheesy 80s sitcoms where the mom or girlfriend would overact. It conveyed the emotion, but there was no doubt it wasn’t real.
Still, if she was real, then Reuben was making a complete ass of himself. “No, it’s just that, I don’t… Do you live in that…closet?”
Buzz laughed. “Geez, dude. Play it cool, man.”
“Right.” Reuben still didn’t quite know what to make of this woman.
She laughed, and with one quick movement, eased herself onto the lab table. “So tongue-tied. He’s so cute.” She grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the counter and lit one.
Could robots smoke? Surely not. They were machines. Now he felt like a real asshole. She was clearly a human, and this was just Buzz making fun of him. But at the back of his mind, part of him remembered how he suspected Buzz's maid of being a robot.
“You’re…” Reuben stammered. “Of course you are… Sorry. It’s just, my friend is a little eccentric. Of course, you would know that, right?”
Binnie took a long drag of her cigarette and blew a thin line of smoke into the air.
Something still lingered in the back of Reuben’s mind. How did Buzz get with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met? Because he was loaded, but all the money in the world didn’t make up for Buzz being Buzz.
And what was in that pink closet? Was there another bedroom back there? Was there a secret entrance to a whole new wing? If she was with him for his money, she wouldn’t be content to live down in the basement. She would want to enjoy the money.
Reuben’s eyes shifted around nervously.
Buzz nodded at Binnie, and she took a step forward. “Reuben. You’re Buzz’s friend.”
Reuben nodded. “Um…yes.”
“He is,” Buzz said. “And we’re looking to give him a Protocol One treatment.”
“Oh.” She touched her lips as her dark eyes met his. “Been a while since we did that.” She took a seat next to Reuben.
“Protocol One? What’s that?” Reuben shifted over to give her more room.
As he moved away, she slid over closer to him. “Buzz tells me that you’re special.”
Reuben looked at Buzz. “Buzz? What’s going on?”
Buzz sighed. “It’s just me being a good host. Go with it.”
“But…but…”
“My Buzz is very generous.” She wrapped her soft legs around his seated body and lowered herself onto his lap.
“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with—” But before Reuben could finish, Binnie grabbed his hand and placed it on her breast.
Buzz put a hand on Reuben’s shoulder. “Just relax. You know I’m into some top-secret shit. Stuff that the government would have no problem torturing, maiming, and killing for. Binnie and I have worked out a protocol to help with that.”
Reuben tried to move, but Binnie wouldn’t let him. She was surprisingly strong.
“Binnie is part of my home security…among other things. And before you ask again, yes, she is a robot.”
“What?” Reuben tried to get out from under her weight.
Binnie traced a soft finger across his cheek, and she cupped his face in her palms.
“You said painless. This is as painless as it gets. Now, Binnie.”
“No, Buzz, not like this—” But before Reuben could finish, electricity exploded through Binnie’s body. It overtook Reuben, and he felt fire explode through his veins, killing him instantly.
Chapter Eighteen
Reuben—Thursday, February 9, 7:51 a.m.
When Reuben came back to consciousness, he was alone in his cubicle in the CIA bullpen. No Binnie. No Buzz. No coworkers. No one.
He was alone at work. It would still be another hour before the morning shift started to trickle in. He looked at his watch. Thursday, 7:51 a.m. So he’d warped back two days and change.
Thursday was the day he went in early to work to get away from Marshall, who was in a mood that…well, this morning.
The high alert hadn’t been issued yet, so they still held regular business hours. The wall screens were black, and no one at the agency had yet heard of Julian Schaeffer. It was the calm before the storm.
The first thing he did was step outside the office building and call Buzz.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Buzz said. “Time warps? Are you joshing—”
“The code to your secret server room is Binnie,” Reuben interjected. “You said to tell you that. That you’re the only one who knows that.”
Buzz gasped. “OK then. I believe you. I’ll go and take a look at the nanobot data you say that your phone has already sent to my computers.”
With that out of the way, Reuben sighed. He wasn't going to be driving out to Buzz's right now. Today was the day to do some much-needed research at the office.
Reuben sat in the silence and looked up Schaeffer’s Facebook page on his phone. He didn’t dare to use his work computer because once Schaeffer was named a suspect, he’d get dragged into the interrogation room for sure.
The kid seemed happy. It looked like he had a handful of goofy friends, miscreants for sure. There were lots of party pics, just teenagers having fun. In one of the pictures, a cute blonde wearing a tank top that read, Tetris rocks, was holding his hand. He was looking at her with the puppy-dog eyes of young love.
All harmless. All normal for someone his age. As Reuben browsed through the photos, it occurred to him that Julian’s life was the life he’d never lived.
He had always been ambitious and smart, often sacrificing parties for study. He wanted his life to mean something. That was how he justified missing out on so much. Sure, he’d had a few girlfriends over the years. But nothing serious. Reuben liked to lie to himself and say it was because of his job. Working for the CIA, keeping the world safe for people like, well, Julian.
He flipped through a few more pics. Julian looked so happy. So normal, and for a moment, Reuben wondered if he’d chosen the wrong path. Maybe, just maybe, he should have gone to a few more parties, tried a bit harder to be…normal.
The office started to fill up now, coffee-laden agents trudging in with jackets and briefcases. Desk phones started to ring, and computer monitors came to life all over the building. The day had begun. Reuben closed Julian’s profile.
He had gone back far enough that maybe he could keep the other agents off Julian’s ass for a bit. Get them to focus on the real threat, whatever that was.
Aki arrived, this time in a black wraparound dress with platform heels that showed off a small tattoo on her ankle. His heart skipped a beat. He had gotten so used to seeing her in the same outfit, he’d almost forgotten that she had other clothes.
From a distance, he heard her laugh, and he looked in her direction. Ugh.
Mike. Her boyfriend.
Reuben had almost forgotten about him. He wa
s a field agent who hopped around the globe. By Valentine’s Day, he would check into rehab for anger management, but today he was in the office.
Mike Fury was tall, with impeccably trimmed dark hair and striking blue eyes. He wore a black suit and a sultry expression that suggested he needed to correct any memory lapses that might have occurred during his exotic travel. No, his gaze reminded any amnesiac colleagues: she is NOT single.
That wouldn’t happen until tomorrow, when he’d lose his shit and Aki in the process.
Aki floated back to her desk as Mike strolled down the hall toward the printer.
“Hey.” Mike stopped at his desk. “Robert, right?”
“Reuben.” He pointed to the nameplate on his cubicle wall.
“Right.” Mike didn’t hear him. “So, listen, can you run some reports for me? I owe a favor to the Canadian Secret Police. There’s a maple syrup thing going on. Apparently Canadian gangsters are all about the syrup. You feel me?”
He put out his fist for Reuben to bump. Reuben wasn’t a bumper, and it came off as an awkward, weak tap.
“Anyway,” Mike continued, “Can you run a report for me? I’m looking for the identity of some gangster wannabe known as the Canadian.”
“I’m sorry?” Reuben said.
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Suspect is known for being polite, saying ‘sorry,’ and is particularly known for being a ‘nonviolent mobster.’ Fucking Canadians. Can you just see what the databases call up? Like I said, I owe a few favors to a Mountie.”
Mike burst into laughter. “I mean, ‘the Canadian’? ‘Whatever happened to ‘Scarface’ or ‘Iceman’? Am I right?” He slapped Reuben on the shoulder. Hard.
He blinked slow and long, and then, in a patronizing tone, “Do you think you can handle this? I mean, we’re not exactly looking for dirt on Al Capone.”
Reuben pursed his lips in concession and took the papers. “Yeah. I think I can.”
Reuben resented Mike’s request, but it still gave him the cover he needed to run an investigation of his own. If he was going to save the city—and his own blood from boiling —he needed to do some investigating of his own. Looking for ‘the Canadian’ would be the perfect excuse.
For the next few hours, Reuben tried to think of everything and anything that would help him figure out where the bomb came from and how to stop it.
He was getting nowhere.
Aki swished by his cubicle in a breeze of perfume, and Reuben seized the moment. Mike was in the conference room, and he would be gone tomorrow.
“Aki,” he called out.
She stopped and turned, glancing at him expectantly.
“Hi, I’m Reuben.” He stood outside his cubicle. “I wanted to ask your advice on something.”
“OK.” Aki moved a little closer and stood near his cubicle.
“I have a hypothetical situation for you,” he began.
She didn’t say anything, so he continued.
“Hypothetically speaking, if a terrorist was going to do something terrible on Valentine’s Day, and so far all activities are totally off our grid, how would you go about investigating it?”
“Well,” she started slowly, “the first thing I would do is search the databases and cross-reference the names and numbers, build a suspect profile, and kick it up to Sven, who will assign it as a protocol.”
“Yeah.” Reuben scratched the back of his head. “But what if it’s a new player? One we don’t really have anything on?”
Aki shook her head. “New player or not, they’ll have to use established pieces on the board to get the job done. They’ll need grunts and local suppliers. No big move can be made in isolation. So, you’ll need to see who on our watch lists is moving and start connecting dots until you get to something. It’s a lot of tedious work, but it’s the only way to start from scratch.”
Aki narrowed her eyes and leaned against his cubicle wall. “What are we dealing with here?”
Reuben shook his head dismissively and dug his hands into his pockets. “Nothing. I’m just running some simulations to help predict terrorist attacks before they happen.”
“Smart one, huh?” Aki smiled, and Reuben swore he could hear the angels sing. “Remind me to come to you if I ever have computer problems.”
If only she knew. “Will do.”
She pointed to Mike’s annotated paperwork on his desk. “Running Mike’s reports?” she remarked. “You keep your act up, you’ll have the tech team running your reports, too.”
By mid-day, he had run a report on the Canadian, as well as filled a full legal pad and a half with notes on every sub-angle related to the bomb that he could think of.
Chapter Nineteen
Reuben—Thursday, February 9, 3:12 p.m.
Reuben heard it in the faint whispers around him. The name popped up, like moles coming up from random holes in the earth.
Julian Schaeffer.
Shit. They were already onto him. However, it would still be a couple of days before he became the prime suspect.
Reuben had to come up with something before then. He knew Schaeffer didn’t have the bomb and likely had nothing to do with it. But he had to find out who it was before they wasted all their time chasing him, and the real terrorists detonated the microwave bomb and killed everyone.
With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the info he’d pulled up on the Canadian for Mike.
He had to hand it to Mike; the maple syrup-smuggling ring was interesting. He started to read the report when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Aki and Mike talking.
No, not talking. Arguing. Their body language was tense, and when Mike slammed his fist on the wall behind her, Reuben knew this was “the breakup.”
The argument continued for a few minutes, with Mike getting increasingly aggravated before he finally broke off and headed right toward… Oh shit.
“Hey, Robert,” Mike growled through gritted teeth.
“Hey, Mitchell,” Reuben responded to his own surprise. What the fuck am I doing poking the bear? he thought. In the pre-time warp days, he would have never been so cheeky. But death does weird things to a person. It makes them unafraid of life. He was definitely unafraid of Mike Fury.
“My name’s Mike,” he corrected, his voice rising in a condescending tone. “Did you finish the search I ordered?”
“Partly.” Reuben handed Mike’s printout back to him. “It’s not a long list, and I’m not sure how valid the intel is, but this should give your guys a lead.”
Mike scoffed. “This isn’t what I need. I need names, addresses. Results.”
Reuben stared into Mike’s haughty blue eyes with a lowkey smirk on his face. Mike would be gone later today.
Mike slammed the papers down on the desk. Then, to everyone’s shock, Mike let out an ear-splitting scream. Everyone in the building stopped and stared. Reuben’s stomach froze. Mike was burying his own career on the security camera. No one even had to do it for him.
Then, without warning, Mike punched the cubicle wall. Reuben backed away as Sven rushed through the building to the scene, but not fast enough. It was then that Mike completely and utterly lost it. With banshee yells, he overturned filing cabinets and knocked down whole cubicles. Office staff screamed and ran for cover. He grabbed a swivel chair, hoisted it over his head, and tossed it across the room, where it knocked over a computer and narrowly missed a tech agent before storming off.
Sven exited down the hall where Mike went, and people started to pick up the office equipment.
Reuben knew what was going to happen. Sven would confront him, and Mike would take a swing at him. Sven would hold his own before security intervened. Mike would be put on suspension and put into mandatory anger management.
Except the way it happened before, it was Sven who set him off. Not Reuben.
That was the first time he thought about the whole ‘butterfly effect’ conundrum. If he hadn’t died so many times, he wouldn’t have been so dismissive of Mike. If he hadn’t been so dis
missive of Mike, Mike would have blown up on Sven.
Whoa.
Then a thought hit him. While it had been entertaining—and a bit scary—to get first row seats to the Mike Fury Self-Destruction Show, Reuben wondered how this slight change of events might affect Aki.
Turning his head, Reuben noticed Aki standing by a wall with her hand over her heart, unmoving and pale.
Reuben went to the water cooler and filled a cup. He stood still a few yards away and tensed as he thought about approaching her. He still wasn’t sure he should. He was, after all, the one who had set Mike off. But maybe it was one of those things. She should know who Mike was now rather than later. But, would she see it that way?
He still held the water cup, staring at Aki. It had to have been two or three minutes since the incident, but she hadn’t moved. He had to say something. He couldn’t just let her stand there, traumatized.
“Hey.” He smiled gently as he spoke.
She didn’t reply. With a sudden burst of confidence, he grabbed a swivel chair with one hand and wheeled it to her.
“Sit,” he told her.
To his surprise, she did.
“Here.” He handed her the water and knelt beside her. She took a tiny sip. Then she burst into tears. Oh shit. He hadn’t expected that. What should he do? He glanced around for a tissue and settled for a clean lunch napkin on someone’s desk.
“Hey, hey, it’s OK.” He handed it to her, and she wiped her eyes.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not OK. But thank you for saying that. And I’m sorry. We got into a fight, and you were just the next person he dealt with. What an asshole.”
Reuben shrugged. “Hey, I’m just glad it was me and not some random stranger on the street, you know what I mean.”
“I do.” She cocked her head in agreement, and then her tear-stained eyes looked into his. “You’re such a nice guy, Reuben. Why can’t I meet a nice guy like you? Thank you, truly.”
She squeezed his hand, then got up and walked away. He knew he couldn’t say anything more. He wanted her. He wanted her more now than ever. He wanted to show her that nice, good guys did exist and that she didn’t have to put up with that asshole.
