by Reed Bosgoed
****
The job
Alright, I think I'm set. Spent the whole afternoon in the mall, picking out a whole new set of all black clothes. Just taking a look at my reflection in the mirror, and it's perfect. I look like an MI5 commando, ready to go into the field in the service of queen and country against a monstrous enemy. Every square millimetre of the biscuit wrapper map has been committed to memory and I'm raring to go.
In hindsight, drinking those two pots of coffee was most likely not the best strategy. Hopefully I can get through tonight without pissing my pants. It's already twenty after twelve. Where the hell is Patrick? He'd better not have flaked out on me, I told Tony that I could help him pay off his debts. If I know my brother, he's already made a half dozen new bets in anticipation of the cash coming in.
That must be him now. Not only are we doing this in a rented caravan, it would also appear to be a bright green one. One of those gaudy, ostentatious jobs straight out of the nineteen seventies. So much for keeping a low profile. In that monstrosity, I might just die of embarrassment before we manage to pull this off.
The idiot pulled up right onto my front lawn. Why is he honking the horn at me? I'm standing right here! He'll wake up Sarah. If she catches me like this she's going to want an explanation. Somehow, I don't think 'Patrick and I are going camping' will cut it. Better just hurry into the passenger seat and get the hell out of here.
“Hey Clyde. You ready to do this? Hold on a minute. What the fuck are your wearing? You look like a ninja. Hahaha! Clyde Simmons, shadow warrior eh? Brilliant.” Laugh it up you prick. I think I look the part.
“Let's just get moving. If we sit around here much longer Sarah's going to wake up.”
“Oh will she now? That doesn't bother me too much. Haven't seen the old girl in some time. How is she anyhow? She still got those huge magnificent tits?” It's a great wonder why Patrick doesn't do so well with the ladies. He's so charming.
“She's fine and her tits are none of your business. Just drive.” That was a lie. Things are not good, not good at all. We argue non stop about everything. It's been months since we last had sex. If things keep trending this way I'm headed towards my third divorce. On the up side, the first two took all the money I had so there's no risk of winding up destitute. I'm already there.
“Good to know Clyde. So when you blow it like you did your other marriages d'you mind if I give Sarah a call? Just to offer her consolation in her hour of need of course.”
“I did not blow it with my other wives Patrick. Michelle discovered she was a lesbian while travelling abroad and Debbie left to pursue her performing arts career. I decided on my own not to go with her.”
“Performing arts? What are you playing at mate? She's a fuckin' circus clown, and not with that fancy pants frenchie circus neither. She left you to live a life knee deep in elephant shit. As for Michelle, if your cock pumped half as good as your mouth flaps, maybe she wouldn't have gone to Spain to cruise for minge. No woman of mine would ever switch teams. Then again, I'd wager what I'm packing puts your little ping a ling to shame.” It's times like this that I understand exactly why the British crown oppressed the Irish for so long. I'm one smart ass comment away from tossing Patrick under the wheels of the caravan. Although it might be more satisfying to leave him holding the bag at the lab, or holding the monkey as the case may be.
We're swerving back and forth across the road quite a bit and there's a rather strong smell in here. He wouldn't...
“For God's sake Patrick, are you drunk right now?!”
“Fuckin rights I am mate! Liquid courage! I always get tanked up when I'm out raisin hell Clyde.” It just keeps getting better and better. “Oh and here I am hoggin it all to meself, did you want a belt?” That bottle he just shoved in my face was more than half empty. He's completely slaughtered.
“Maybe I should drive.”
“Not a chance. I'm the one who rented this caravan. I'm the only one who's supposed to drive it. If I let you drive it'll void the insurance in case of an accident. Besides, Travis said I was the wheel man, your job is to corral the monkeys.” There really is no logic quite like alcoholic logic. Fair enough then, I guess I'll spend the rest of the trip hyperventilating and watching my life flash before my eyes.
At last we're here, and I've only had a couple of heart attacks thus far. Say what you want about the Angelista Corp's politics, they do have a flare for presentation. The design of the building is mighty sleek. Shiny silver and black panels surrounding that iconic red double A corporate logo. Only one car in the parking lot. It must belong to the night watchmen.
“Alright, pull around back Patrick and let's get this over with.”
That must be the security guard there. Here I thought Travis was fat, but this bloke puts him to shame. I suppose if my job was to sit on my ass and watch an empty building all night, I'd be no different.
“Hello there gents. You're Travis' boys I take it?”
“You bet your arse we are! We're here to save the fuckin’ whales! I mean monkeys!” Thank you so much Patrick. I didn't need that eardrum anymore anyway.
“I think what my associate meant to say was yes. We are the people Travis sent.” There's a pretty severe expression on his face.
“We've got a bit of a complication I'm afraid.” Of course we do. We have several. Which one is he referring to I wonder? Or is there perhaps one I'm not yet aware of?
“One of the lab techs is still in the building. They're all supposed to be gone until nine AM tomorrow but for some reason he just won't go home.” That might just ruin our chances of getting this done. That might not be a bad thing.
“No fuckin problem! Just tell me where the little prick is and I'll make sure he stays out of our way.” Sounds like Patrick has managed to finish off that bottle of whiskey.
“Calm down Patrick. We don't need to get out of hand now. Maybe we'll just have to call this thing off for the time being. Reschedule.”
“Reschedule? Are you kidding? I've only got the caravan for two days you nonce! We're already here. I'll keep the caravan runnin’, you go get the monkeys!”
“Your friend is right, no need for violence. Luckily, the tech is working in a separate part of the lab. As long as you stick to the prescribed corridors from the map I made for Travis, you won't run across him. Just stay as quiet as you can while you're in there.” Stay as quiet as I can while I'm leading a cadre of primates pumped full of experimental drugs out of the building. Easy peasy. Might as well get this show on the road.
“Keep an eye out for the police Patrick.” He's not even listening to me. Is that a fresh bottle in his hand?
“Should your friend be driving that thing in his condition?” No, but go ahead and try to tell him that.
“He has to. It's an insurance thing.”
Damn, this place is even nicer inside than out. A little sterile maybe, but definitely expensive. I'd wager the hardwood flooring in these hallways costs more than my whole house. Wish I knew where they got these walls sconces, Sarah's always wanted something like those for the living room. Maybe I should nick a few while I'm here. That damn logo is on bloody everything in here. Methinks Mr. Archibald Angelista is overcompensating for something.
Now, I just take the first left, walk to the end of the corridor, take a right and head down the first set of stairs I see. Yup, here we are. 'Subject Holding Area'. Luckily enough, it's not terribly far from the back door. It shouldn't take too long to ferry the monkeys out of here.
Wow, look at them all. We'll never manage to save all of them. Even with the caravan we'll be lucky to get half of them and we can't afford to make multiple trips. My, my. Is this breed of primate supposed to have such large pointy teeth? It’s almost like they’ve got bloody tusks. Don't worry about that right now Clyde, just start moving those monkeys and hope they don’t decide to take a bite out of you.
“Have no fear little friends. Clyde is here to help.”
I figured this would
be more challenging but they're actually downright cooperative. Each cage I open they just stroll calmly out and follow right behind me. Must be the result of being used as test subjects for so long. They've acclimatized to being led around by humans. Kind of sad when you think about it.
Considering all the various problems, this has gone off relatively smoothly. There's only room left in the caravan for a couple more monkeys. I'll just make my way back down and grab the last pair of... Oh shit, literally. Those pots of coffee from earlier are coming back to haunt me. I can't hold it in, got to do this now. I'm certain there was a washroom around here somewhere. Yes! Thank God.
Wait. What is that sound? Someone is coming and I don't recognize the voice. It has to be that lab tech. Have to hide. Where the hell am I going to run to with my pants around my ankles? Pinch your cheeks and pray to God this guy only came in to take a slash Clyde.
“Yes, I understand all of that Jackie. I still think that we should move forward with the program anyhow. Number twelve was for the most part a success. The neurological damage was severe, but to me that just says we should change the load out, not the overall schemata.” Is he talking about the monkeys? Probably not, the monkey cages all had names on them, not numbers.
“Yup, it's the same guard again. Every night the same thing. 'D'you watch the football match on Friday night?' No asshole, I didn't, just like I hadn't watched it yesterday. I'm a fucking American scientist, not an unemployed British drunk. How many people with two graduate degrees do you know who watch professional sports?” I hate people who use their phones in the shitter, so unsanitary. Besides, it's not as if a yank has any idea what real football should be. At least our version is played with actual feet. Ok he's done, can't hold it in much longer.
“You're way too tolerant Jackie. I still don't understand why we're not using drones for security instead of ordinary people.” Drones? Like bees? Oh whatever, just wash your hands and get out of here, I'm about to explode.
“So what if we move the prospectus forward by a few months? It's not like that'll change the long term results. We have a controlling interest in...” Ok, he's finally gone. Give it a few more seconds and... there it is. Ahhhhh, sweet, glorious relief. No job is finished until the paperwork is done, and there we are.
Where did that lab tech go? Some of the things he was saying didn't sit well with me, especially that 'drone' comment. Maybe I should follow him, listen in a little more. I think I can still hear his voice coming from down the eastern corridor. Must be sure to keep quiet, I've come too far to be caught now.
This section of the lab is quite different. Particularly off putting is the number of radioactivity signs along the walls. There are quite a few menacing looking mechanical devices lying scattered around too. What are these things? I've never seen anything quite like them. To the best of my knowledge, I'd hazard a guess that at least some of it is weapons. How about that? Angelista is producing experimental weapons right here in Cambridge. Need to take some pictures of this stuff. With evidence like this, we'll be able to deal a pretty serious blow to the Angelista Corp. Something much more substantial than just stealing a few lab monkeys.
There's that tech again. Fiddling with a loose wall panel quite deliberately, a false panel by the look of it.
“Yeah, I'm on my way back down now Jackie. We'll go over all this more in depth when I get there.” And just like that he's gone. Must be an elevator of some kind. What's that written across the door? 'Core access'. Interesting, I'm going to have a word with the security guard about all of this. Right after I get those last couple monkeys.
There, all done and loaded up, just need to flag down the security guard.
“Excuse me, but what kind of research is being done here? It can't just be simple pharmaceutical testing. I saw some pretty grim stuff in there.”
“Not quite sure but you're right, it's not just pharma tests. I don't know what the mechanical stuff is but they've got military personnel coming in and out of that part of the lab all the time.”
“And the basement? What kinds of stuff do they have going on down there?” That's one hell of a confused expression on his face.
“Basement? What are you talking about? There are no sub levels as far as I know.”
“You don't know about the elevator at the back of the eastern lab? The one marked 'core access'.” Fine then, shrug your shoulders and stare at me like a deer in the headlights. We've got to be off anyhow. The safe house awaits.
“Let's go Patrick.”
“We haven't fucking finished yet.”
“Of course we have. We couldn't fit any more passengers back there if we tried.” Where the hell is he going with those bungie cords? Oh no!
“Patrick stop!” He's beating the shit out of the guard! Have to pull him off before he seriously hurts the poor bastard. The last thing we need is to add assault and possibly murder to the evening's festivities.
“What the hell do you think you're doing?”
“My job you idiot. We've gotta make it look like a legit robbery so our mate here doesn't get in any trouble.” Come to think of it, that makes sense. Fair enough.
“Carry on Patrick. Try to avoid the face, don't want the poor bugger to be unrecognizable.” Why do I even bother? He's not listening. I certainly hope this guy is getting paid as much as we are. It'll cost him a pretty penny to repair the damage Patrick did to his teeth.
“Don't bind him too tightly Patrick, you'll cut off his circulation.”
“Good to go, Clyde. Safe house here we come.” Nearly in the clear now. In twenty minutes we'll ditch the monkeys and then it's home to bed. Tomorrow, I'll saunter down to the organic grocer's to meet up with Travis and collect my payment. Made plans to have supper with Tony so I can give him what he needs to clear his debts, but what to do with the rest?
New car perhaps? I could always add to my collection of vintage comics. There was a whole stack of new stuff at the shop this week. No Clyde, no! Think of your failing marriage. This money should be used to take Sarah on a nice vacation. She's always wanted to see Tuscany. That settles it, Italy here we come. For fuck's sake we're swerving again.
“Damn it Patrick! At least try to keep this boat moving in a straight line.”
“Oh, don't be such a baby. Try to enjoy it.” I'll worry about enjoying things when all of this is over with.
“If you keep driving like this we might just blow a...” BANG!!! Patrick you jackass.
“tire.” I hate my life.
“What the hell are we supposed to do now Patrick? Call for roadside assistance? What should we tell them do you think? Uh, yes my drunk friend and I were just smuggling some stolen monkeys and we seem to have hit a tiny snag. Could you send someone round to give us a tow?” Seems as though that tire exploding has spooked the monkeys. They're going bloody mental back there. If we don't calm them down anyone who drives past will know something's up.
“Don't fret Clyde. I came prepared. I've got a kit right here under my seat and there's a spare tire attached to the back of the caravan. I'll change the tire. You go back there and quiet the monkeys.” Fantastic plan. I get to deal with a caravan full of terrified primates. If I had any idea how to properly change a tire I would have argued with him. Such as it is, let's see what I can do.
Approach the door slowly Clyde. Damn, they've lost it in there. The shrieks are ear piercing and those splattering noises are not so reassuring either. If I get monkey shit on me I'm smearing it right in Patrick's mug.
“Alright little friends, let's just calm down, shall we? I've got a nice bundle of bananas that I'm willing to share, provided everybody shuts their filthy gobs.” Nothing. At least they haven't tossed any shit at me yet. This one here seems pretty calm but that raised eyebrow gives me pause.
“Something you wanted little one? Why can't your brothers and sisters all be quiet like you huh?” Now it's tilting it's head, like it's trying to understand me. How cute.
“Good boy. Now stand
aside so I can-” Suddenly... everything's all fuzzy. Maybe a little nap will... clear my head.
Oh God my nose! The little bastard punched me! Why you little shit I'll... I don't hear the monkeys anymore. Why are my hands stuck behind my back? Have to open my eyes.
“Oh, SHIT!” I'm in the back of a police car.
“Look at that. Sleeping beauty has risen from her slumber. We were beginning to think you were dead.” Yeah, eat me piggy. And look at that, Patrick is sitting next to me, out cold and snoring like a banshee.
“I must admit, in all my days as an officer, I've never seen anything like the two of you. You, lying tits up in the middle of the road with a swarm of apes dancing about, and him, passed out drunk in the ditch using a spare tire as a pillow. The boys at the station house will never believe this shit. What the hell were you lot doing anyway?” Yeah, yeah, keep on laughing you fascists.
“I demand a lawyer. I know my rights.” That's the way Clyde. Don't bend to the will of corporate oppression. Stay strong in your convictions.
“A lawyer? If I were you I'd be asking for a doctor to look at that smashed face mate.” Excellent point. That little shit really did a number on me.
“Yes, that too please.” No reason you can't be polite with the men who are about to incarcerate you. Is that retching I hear? Oh no.
“Patrick don't you dare!” He hasn't listened to a word I've said all night, why would he start now? Thanks so much Pat, right in my lap.
“Say gents, is there any chance we could stop by a laundry mat on the way to the station house?”
This has been the worst day of my life.
