Audrey thanked her and answered the call.
“Miss Templar, this is Jamie Reynolds, one of your husband’s doctors,” she began, “I apologize for this unorthodox call, but I felt you’d like to know that we’ve discovered a change in your husband’s health.”
“Yes, has something happened?”
“Yes, though the news is quite uncanny. Let me preface this by reiterating how closely we’ve monitored your husband so far, but recently we’ve discovered that your husband’s recovering at a rather alarming rate.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s already recovered five percent of his original muscle mass, and his skin and nervous system are healing faster than anyone here in this hospital has ever heard of,” the doctor explained.
Audrey smiled, “That’s wonderful.”
“It is, though we are all baffled how someone in critical condition and on life support could miraculously make this level of progress. That’s the other reason I called; I would like to look into more of your husband’s medical history in hope of finding something that could have triggered this.”
“You think this could be a chemical reaction to something he took and something you gave him?”
“Possibly.” The doctor continued, “What medications did he take before the attack?”
Audrey paused and thought a moment, “He doesn’t take anything. In fact, I’ve only seen him take aspirin on occasion to relieve a headache.”
“Does he have any unlisted medical conditions?”
“No…well he is an insomniac,” she told the doctor.
“Do you know of any drugs or supplements he might have been taking?”
“He doesn’t take any. He’s always been against that sort of thing.”
Doctor Reynolds continued down a very long list of questions, most of which Audrey either didn’t know the answer to or she knew he never took or wasn’t taking or never would take. Overall the information from the brief inquiry proved to be less than useful for Doctor Reynolds.
The doctor sighed, “Well thank you for your time. We’ll be sure to keep you updated.”
“Um, could I ask you when I’ll be able to see my husband again?”
Doctor Reynolds said she wasn’t sure. “It all depends on whether this change continues or not, as well as a few other factors.”
“Oh.”
The doctor paused for a moment before she added that there was one other revelation. “We tested what we could of his blood and found that he has trace amounts of radiation within him.”
“And what does that mean?” she asked.
“We’re not entirely sure at this moment, but there could be complications down the road.”
“Like what?”
“Cancer, for example.”
Audrey’s joy sank. She trembled and asked how that would affect his recovery.
“Again, at the moment we aren’t certain. I’ll update you as soon as we know anything else,” Doctor Reynolds assured her. The doctor apologized again for waking her and hung up. Audrey took a moment to process the news, both good and bad, but decided to wait to tell her family the news until morning. Jason would live and it was only a matter of time before he was recovered.
---*---
9:21 AM
Mumbai, India
The group arrived at the State Bank of India and slowly climbed the stairs to access the roof. The group utilized the emergency stairwell to get to the roof, though Mithra questioned how they were able to get access through the security as well as the alarms.
“I called another member of the group and asked him to disable the fire alarms in this stairwell as well as looping the security throughout the building until we’re gone at ten.”
“You planned this all out before we left?” Melanie asked.
He nodded. “I estimated how long it would take Mithra to pack, eat, and leave his home and arrive at the steps of the Asiatic Society of Bombay, then added the duration of time it would take us to arrive here and then another plotted time that would enable us to meet the individual on the roof, talk, and leave.”
“So, there are others in the group be-besides us?” Nick stopped and repeated his question without stuttering.
“Glad you asked Nick.” Mizuno confirmed it, “There are approximately thirty-eight members, but only twelve confirmed members.” He glanced at Melanie, his eyes gleamed, and he added, “Not all of the prospective members have declined my offer, which is why I said ‘approximately.’”
“So are there different groups in this whole project of yours?”
“No. We act in one accord and so long as I can help it there are other agents in various areas of the world who only wait for the call to act. I try to handle everything on my own and if and when I need you all, I’ll call.”
“So we’re nothing but tools to you?” Mithra questioned.
Mizuno groaned, “Would you two shut up? We’re here because Nick needs training, not because I want to hear you two gripe.”
They were quiet the rest of the climb to the roof. Once they reached the door at the top of the stairwell, Mizuno opened it and an overpowering heat swept over them. It was bright and dusty and it took Nick a moment for his eyes to adjust. But after they did, he found one other soul on the opposite end of the building hunched over a sniper rifle and a duffel bag. He wore a black dress shirt and tan dress pants; a black duffel bag lay on the roof next to him. On his belt was a pearl mask with the silver outline of a ghost.
Mithra and Melanie stopped dead in their tracks. Nick asked, “What is it?”
Mithra couldn’t speak, but Melanie, who trembled, whispered, “Him…Wh-Wh-Why is he h-here?”
Mizuno’s expression was as serious as Nick had ever seen him. He answered, “He’s here to do what I am paying him for,” he paused, “Strom, now if you don’t mind,” and then quickly added, “The boy, by the way.”
The man was still and didn’t even breathe, but then a shot was fired. The man had pulled out a handgun off of his belt and fired one shot at Nick’s forehead without so much as looking at Nick. The bullet vanished before it would have hit Nick and became nothing more than tendrils of black smoke that flew past him.
Nick felt his heart beat hard and fast.
Mizuno was the only one who moved; he walked without hesitation toward the man, retrieved a sum of money from his coat and handed it to him. “Half now,” he muttered.
“Of course,” the man agreed, in a German accent. He turned and faced the group. He was a large man with very short brown hair, glasses, and on his face, beneath his right cheek bone, was a small horizontal scar. He looked at Nick and asked Mizuno, “Is he any good?”
“No, that’s why I hired you.”
“True.”
“Stop,” Mithra finally spoke. He cautiously walked forward and asked Mizuno, “You asked him to come here?”
“I did.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Calm down.”
“No! You answer me! Why is that person here?”
“It’s not your business.”
“Answer me or I’m leaving the group.”
“M-M-Me too,” Melanie finally spoke up.
“He’s only going to be working with Nick.”
“What’s wrong?” Nick asked.
“Don’t you know who that man is?” Mithra whispered. Nick shook his head.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said as he hoisted his rifle into his arms, “I’m the German Hostile Operative Strom Trenor, the world’s greatest assassin.”
---*---
3:02 AM
Baltimore, Maryland
“You haven’t heard anything yet have you?” Geoff Murdock asked Detective Felton.
“If I had I sure as hell wouldn’t be up at this hour,” Felton retorted. He stopped himself and apologized to the sergeant. “It’s just been–”
“I get it, I’m sorry.”
They stood hunched over Detective sa
ge’s desk and tried to sort through the mess the detective left behind. Sage was the expert on the investigation, and although Detective Felton assisted him in the process, Sage was leaps and bounds ahead of him in terms of understanding Cladis’ methods and patterns. Detective Sage hadn’t turned up since he escaped the hospital, despite the station’s best efforts to find him.
“Who’s at his home again?” Sergeant Murdock asked.
“Officer Hendricks. She volunteered.”
“Anyone with her?”
Felton shook his head. “I offered Brown or Kato but she said she’d be fine.”
“Nothing I take it?”
“Nothing at all, but she did tell me that from the looks of things Ryan hasn’t been home in quite some time.”
Murdock frowned and asked how she could tell.
“Hendricks asked around and no one’s seen him in nearly a week,” he reported. “A few of them didn’t know he still lived there. So odds are Ryan won’t return there.”
Murdock scratched at the back of his head and asked whether Felton believed Ryan was hiding from them. “The man’s injured, crippled actually, and you’re suggesting he’s hiding?”
Felton sighed and said he wasn’t sure what to think. “Have you read the report of how he disappeared? It says he jumped out of a damn hole in the hospital wall. The hole’s the size of this room and moreover, how the hell was he able to move enough to get to the window let alone leap out of it.”
“And his room’s a few flights up, I know,” Murdock finished. “I read it too.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“No it does not.” Sergeant Murdock looked through the notes and litter strewn across the detective’s desk. At a glance he couldn’t tell what was a part of the investigation and what was garbage from week old takeout. “We need to get someone in here to sort through this and clean it up. It’s still a health violation whether he’s on a case or not.” Murdock leafed through a few other notes before he asked Felton who he thought the next victim would be. “We didn’t have an opportunity to pick his brain before he vanished. Do you think we’ve lost the trail?”
Detective Felton muttered that he wasn’t even sure they were on the trail to begin with.
---*---
9:36 AM
Mumbai, India
“Calm down.”
“No, I will not associate myself with that monster!” Mithra yelled.
“Watch it,” Strom told him with a glare.
“I’ve already told you, I hired Strom to teach Nick about his ability–”
“You never said that until we arrived,” Mithra spat. “And you didn’t say it was this murderer who would teach him!”
“And what if I had?” Mizuno asked him. “You would have lashed out, just like you are now, and we wouldn’t have gotten anywhere.”
Nick remained where he was since Strom tried to shoot him in the head. It wasn’t terror that planted him where he stood (as was the case for Melanie), Nick simply wasn’t sure he wanted clarification as to why Mizuno planned on using a serial killer as an instructor or even what Nick’s abilities were. Mithra was red in the face and though Mizuno seemed calm Nick could tell the Japanese man quickly lost his patience.
“Mithra,” Mizuno continued, “I know how difficult this is but you’re going to have to trust me. This is all for the project.”
“How?” he snapped, “What part could he possibly play?”
“He’s going to train Nick.”
“To be what? A killer?”
Mizuno swore, “Mithra, please shut your mouth and trust me, alright?” He looked at Nick and told him to join him. Nick obeyed, though he tried to keep a bit of a distance from Strom, who sat completely relaxed and intrigued by Mizuno’s actions. “Strom I’d like to borrow your Zastava M76 if you don’t mind.”
Strom shrugged and walked it over to him. Mizuno set the rather large rifle on the edge of the building, looked through the sights, and after everything was satisfactory he told Nick to crouch at the edge of the building, press the butt of the rifle against his right shoulder, wrap his first two fingers around the trigger, breathe evenly, and steady the rifle with his left hand.
“There’s an empty bottle on the roof of the building across the way,” Mizuno instructed the young man, “Take as accurate of an aim as you can and once you’re ready fire at the item. Use the scope to take aim by setting the object between the crosshairs and fire once you’re ready.”
Nick nodded and after a few seconds found the bottle, lined up the sights as Mizuno told him and pulled the trigger. He couldn’t tell if he hit the bottle or not as he failed to brace himself for the recoil from the shot.
Mizuno immediately seized the rifle from Nick (as the weapon nearly flew out of Nick’s grasp and off the roof) and Strom laughed at the poor shot. Mizuno returned the rifle to the assassin, pulled Nick back up to his feet, and asked Strom, “Did he hit the bottle?”
Strom removed his glasses, looked over to where the bottle was, and nodded. He put his glasses back on and congratulated Nick. “That was a five-hundred meter shot you just made.”
“That’s approximately five-hundred forty-six and eighty-one-hundredths yards,” Mizuno clarified.
Nick tried in vain to wipe the dirt off of his clothes and asked, “Wh-What was the p-p-point of th-that?”
They all looked for an answer from Mizuno, but the Japanese man simply waited for Nick to repeat the question without stuttering, which he did after one other failed attempt. Mizuno folded his arms across his chest and took a seat on the ledge of the building. “Nick, close your eyes and concentrate. Picture the rifle in your hands. Remember the color, the weight, the feel, the kick, the design, and the smell of it after you fired. Just try to remember everything.”
Nick nodded and did as he was told. They all waited in silence for nearly a minute before a cloud of smoke erupted around Nick. Once it cleared they all found Nick standing there with an exact replica of the rifle he held minutes before.
“Holy shit,” the German swore with his eyes wide. “Did…Did he just make a Zastava M76 out of thin air?”
Mithra, Melanie, and Nick all stood amazed at the feat as well, though Nick most of all, as he’d never witnessed anything of that sort other than when Strom shot at him.
“I told you he was going to be great.” Mizuno smirked, “Explain everything to him.”
“Okay,” the man brought out his and began to explain the weapon, “This is a Zastava M76 sniper rifle. It’s good, it’s Serbian, and it’s my favorite.” He pointed to the barrel of the gun, “That’s a suppressor; it muffles the shot which allows you to remain hidden when you’re sniping people out.” He then flipped to the butt of the gun, “Synthetic polymer, I prefer black. It’s not really important what color it is, but material does matter. And all of my weapons have one of these,” he said as he pointed to a small emblem on the end of the gun. A small ghost emblem was emblazoned there.
Nick checked his weapon to see if the emblem was there as well and discovered it was. “Like this?” he asked the man.
The German walked over, grabbed the gun, and took a look. He grinned, “Exactly like that.” He glanced over at Mizuno and asked, “Where’d you find this kid anyway?”
“Seattle,” he muttered, “Get back to the point,” he told him as he pointed back to the rifle.
Strom nodded, “Of course, of course…Well you get about an eight-hundred meter range with this–”
“That’s eight-hundred and seventy-five yards,” Mizuno elucidated.
“Yes, but if you get really good you can push a thousand or more.”
“H-How…How good are y-y…How good are you?”
“He’s the best,” Mizuno answered. “I’ve crossed paths with sharpshooters and a wide variety of gunman across the world and he is by far the best.”
“The best at what?” Mithra scoffed.
“The best at blowing off the heads of people other people want dead,” Mizuno f
latly answered. “I’d appreciate it if you simply kept quiet until we all left, that way you don’t have to deal with him and Strom won’t provoke you.”
“Yeah why is that?” Strom asked. “Why are you so pissed at me? I mean, besides my profession that is.”
Mithra readied himself to continue his argument but Mizuno answered for him. “You killed his father about six years ago.”
“Oh,” Strom nodded. “That would explain things.”
Mithra scowled at Mizuno and barked, “You can’t simply act as if it was nothing Mizuno!”
“I’m not,” Mizuno defended himself, “It was a travesty that your father was killed, but Strom was nothing more than a weapon. You should be wroth with the individual who hired him to kill your father.”
“But who just kills people for money?” Mithra asked, “What sort of monster does that?”
“An assassin,” Strom plainly said. “Who was your father anyway?”
“He was a man who worked tirelessly to find a cure for paralysis,” Mithra told him, “He was weeks away from the cure and you killed him.”
Strom chuckled, “Y’know, you’d be surprised at how many people don’t want anyone to find that cure. In fact,” he paused for a moment, “Most of my clients don’t want any cures to be found.”
“Wh-Why is th…” Nick paused, took a breath, and restarted, “Why is that?”
“Privatization of the drug means a single corporation can make billions in profit over a single cure Nick,” Mizuno explained. “Medicine oftentimes has nothing to do with humanity; it’s more so about corporate gain.”
“Still,” Melanie finally spoke up, “He did kill Mithra’s dad.”
Mizuno rubbed his eyes, “Yes, Strom did kill Mithra’s father, but we could get into an hour long debate as to who truly killed him but we don’t have the time. We all have flights to catch and we’re running out of time to get out of here before someone notices us.”
“We are not done here,” Mithra snapped. “I cannot allow him to simply walk away from this.” Mithra retrieved a small playing card from his wallet and showed it to Strom. The playing card had an image of a ghost on it and the suit was of spades. “You left this on my father’s chest after you shot him in the head. I’ve kept this with me for years to remind me that if I ever had the chance to avenge him then I would.”
Impact (Book 1): Regenesis Page 23
