by Purple Hazel
It gave him time to think about what had just happened, though, and it also gave him the opportunity to do a little research—this time on explosive devices. He’d had a hard time understanding just how that vehicle had exploded into flames. Didn’t make sense how it had turned into such a massive inferno, sending parts flying in every direction, and consuming the vehicle (as well as its occupants) in a ball of fire. “What could have made it go up like that?” he wanted to know.
Passenger vehicles were all running on solar power now—had been for decades. No gasoline or diesel fuel in them. Nothing to ignite. Thus, the assassins had apparently used some form of incendiary in their bomb making which would cause that—and thus insure there’d be no survivors, let alone identifiable bodies. “These guys must have been pro’s,” he commented to himself, “and on top of that,” he’d observed, reading articles on bomb-making, “they must have had time.”
“That’s what’s so incredible about this,” he’d thought privately. “They knew exactly which car we’d driven, where it was parked, and managed to crawl under it to attach explosives. It couldn’t have been detonated remotely. If they were watching us, they’d have waited until I got in the car before exploding it. That means those bastards hooked it to the starter switch. No other way to do it...not that I can see.”
To be fair, Zero had been visibly embarrassed by the incident...at least that day when it happened anyway. She’d been apologetic, and even downright frustrated that Kwang-Min’s enemies had “gotten that close” to him. Said it was the first time they’d ever pulled it off. Spoke of them as “finally getting lucky for once.”
But when they landed in Toronto, and a Min-Pharma limousine pulled up to retrieve them, she seemed to have changed her attitude. By then she was fuming mad that her various informants in Asia had failed to notify her. “It’s not like them, dammit,” she complained, as they were being driven back to headquarters. “They always tip me off in time when we’re over there.”
It hardly made Young-Min Jo any more comfortable about things hearing her rant. It also threw yet another bucket of cold water on any remaining enthusiasm he held for the Enimen project—or even continuing another day with Min-Pharma Corp. Frankly he was starting to really miss the old Santa Maria, and all his friends there. “She’s probably mothballed by now,” he lamented privately, regarding his home for nearly twenty-four years, “or converted into a mining ship. I miss her though.”
Even stranger was his brother Kwang-Min’s reaction. He seemed almost surprised to see them back again! Acted like he was welcoming an old relative who’d unexpectedly stopped by when cruising through Toronto!
Happy they were back—relieved, too, he was. But what really got to Young-Min was his failure to mention even once those poor bodyguards who had perished in the bombing. Lagi and Tukupa were friends of Young-Min’s by now. Not exactly drinking buddies of course—but he was fond of them and it seemed as though they liked him, too.
Kwang-Min never brought that up though, and Young-Min noticed this. It was like that everywhere at headquarters in fact. No one discussed it. Seemed like those two guards were merely a military asset that had been lost in a combat operation, and everyone simply accepted it that way. Very disconcerting.
“If only I could get the fuck out of here, man,” he kept thinking and muttering to himself. “I miss everybody. Can’t believe I’d ever say this, but I do. Miss the crew. Especially Meeso and Oz. Bet they’re havin’ a great time out there right now...”
* * * *
“Hey, Love! You on the way?” asked Shamiso excitedly. She’d crawled out of bed relatively early for a Sunday morning and scrambled to get ready for Ozzie’s arrival. “Yeah Darlin’,” he replied. “I’m ’bout an hour outa Toronto I reckon. Be there soon.” He was at that moment driving a rented luxury sedan; speeding northeast on the 401, up from Detroit. His Digital Communication Device was connecting through the vehicle’s stereo speakers so he could speak to her while driving. She was in her hotel room in Toronto.
Rudo was of course still fast asleep. It was only 09:15. Shamiso however had been reading a top-secret file delivered to their room by a courier from Space Programme. As had been arranged, he’d arrived at their door promptly at 08:30. That had been Monika’s orders. Once they were in Toronto together, they were to receive an electronic notepad with an encrypted file they were to “read promptly”. Shamiso had already accessed it, even though technically she was to wait until Ozzie was there. It was, according to Monika, “highly confidential, to be shared ONLY between the three of you, then destroyed.”
“How was the show last night?” Ozzie went on to ask. He’d been counting down the number of shows to where they’d finally be finished with their commitment to Rudo’s production company.
“Not bad,” she said. “Didn’t stink it up too badly, I guess. That’s just about it for us, by the way. One more knees-up to do in Los Angeles, then we’re finished.” She then giggled excitedly, “Yay.”
Ozzie laughed right along with her. “Yep, that’s what I thought you’d told me back at the hospital in London. How’s yer sis’ doin’? She hangin’ in there?”
Shamiso reacted quickly, almost having to keep her voice down, “God yes. She’s amazing. Gets more bloody powerful with each fucking show it seems. I can tell she’s excited to be nearly done with this business for good, but...it kind o’ seems like she’d rather just keep on going...if her health...well, you know, right? I told you about the situation. Anyway, we’ll talk more when you get here. This shit about Min-Pharma, it’s a real gob-smacker.”
Ozzie got suddenly concerned. He’d known their instructions were to open the file together. His instincts as an officer in Space Programme began to kick in again after nearly eleven months. “Darlin’...uh, we were supposed to read that together...with Young-Min, remember?”
Shamiso was unapologetic. “Too late. I been readin’ it over already. Any of our palm prints will work in opening it, so I had me a butcher’s. And besides, we won’t ’ave no more time when you get here. We gotta get over there fast. Min-Pharma’s headquarters is just up the road from here over by Chinatown. ’N after what I read, love...it’s not a moment too soon, I promise ya’.” Then she got silent for a moment before whispering, “I can’t tell you more ’n that right now, ’cause I’m in mixed company, but when you get here...I’ll tell you in the car.”
“Alright then Darlin’,” conceded Ozzie. It made more sense that way. After eight months of Megaball, his mind was in no shape for reading through scientific findings and the like. Best that Shamiso give him “the skinny” on it—then go over and fetch their old friend. “I guess it’s better if you summarize it for me. I’ll do a better job explaining it to Bones that way anyway.”
“You won’t need to, Love,” she quipped. “Just give ’im this fucking notepad and let him read it ’imself. If ’eez still got half a brain in ’im, he won’t need no summary. He’ll put it together faster than me or you could, what with his intelligence. He was always the smart one...remember?”
“And gullible,” added Ozzie. Shamiso had no argument for that.
* * * *
After picking up Shamiso in front of her hotel, Ozzie activated the vehicle’s global positioning system to guide them toward Min-Pharma headquarters. After that, the car engaged its own remote guidance system (RGS) and Ozzie could let go of the wheel while it meandered through the city to its programmed destination.
“Look what this fucker can do, darlin’,” exclaimed Ozzie. He was excited about the car’s features, and bragged about how it had handled on the highway coming up from Detroit after he’d crossed the old Canada-US border, now with just a “Welcome to Ontario/Bienvenue au Canada” sign in place of border guards and checkpoint kiosks.
“Runs like a floating carpet on the highway...I can’t believe it’s so smooth,” he observed proudly. Shamiso wasn’t terribly interested however. They had business to tend to.
“Well, you just let
your little toy take us to Bones’ office building while I go over this,” she interrupted. “You’re not gonna like it I’m afraid.” And when she said this, Ozzie sat back in his seat and swiveled slightly to face her as she spoke. Within minutes, neither of them were paying any attention to traffic, and just let the car do all the work. What Shamiso had to tell him was far more riveting.
“Essentially, what I’ve learned is, the G.U. is soon going to be moving against Bones’s dear brother Kwang-Min Jo. I mean, they’re literally going to show up any day now and shut down the whole operation. Haul his ass off to jail. It’s plain to see...all they need is the proper search warrants and such then they’ll be pulling into his driveway with weapons drawn. It’s that serious, love.”
Shamiso went on to tell Ozzie what he didn’t already know about Enimen. It wasn’t just some capsule with fortified vitamins to increase metabolism in aging individuals. There was more...much more. “There’s no bloody way Bones could know all of this, and I suspected that from the start. But Enimen is actually addictive...I mean once you start takin’ it, you can’t fucking stop.”
Ozzie cocked his head to one side, confused. Of course you could stop taking it. You just throw it in the trash once you’ve got the results you want, then go on with your life, right?
No. That was not the case. Shamiso explained. “It’s actually human growth hormone, Love. Steroids, I believe they used to call ’em. If you start takin’ this shit, you’ll feel great, look great, slim down, and before you know it, your spouse ’ll think you’ve transformed. Fuck your legs off, thinkin’ you’re a super model. Pretty soon you’ll be braggin’ to your friends—and bloody well get them blokes hooked on it as well.”
“You’ll eat right, you’ll exercise,” she continued on, “basically just what the bottle tells you to do. Then, about ten years later, you’ll either start dyin’ or you’ll be dead. Not kidding. Fifteen years tops. It’s gonna vary from person to person, but for an older bloke—or an old totty—thinkin’ it’ll give ’er some kind of an edge—it could be deadly. Heart won’t take it. Stroke. Heart attack. It’s gonna kill ya’ b’fore you reach seventy. Probably die in your sixties. You’ll make a pretty corpse, that’s about it.”
Ozzie sighed and shook his head. No damn way someone would try pulling off a scam this big—and so blatantly—right out there in the public’s eye—without considering the repercussions. And even if Young-Min’s brother was a complete and total sociopath, which it now looked like he was, how would he ever assume it’d go undetected?
“So they sent this drug to the G.U.,” summarized Ozzie. “And you mean to tell me, they didn’t think it’d get caught? Them fuckers in the government are sharp, let me tell ya’. Ain’t no way this’d slip by ’em. Bones’s brother had to have figgered in somethin’ like that.”
“Fakes, love,” replied Shamiso. “They sent ’em fake pills, claiming they was Enimen. All they were was Vitamin B-3. A placebo. Fooled ’em for a few months, then someone tipped ’em off. I bet it was Space Programme. I really do. It’s ’cause of us, don’t ya’ see? They been monitoring our twin brother and sister while we was up in space. Monika told us that, remember? Had a flashlight up Kwang-Min’s ass since he was ten, I bet. I mean, they knew exactly where to send us to find our twins when we landed after all. Didn’t even have to search for ’em. Think about it.”
He did. In fact, Ozzie pondered it for several minutes while the car continued transporting them across downtown Toronto to Min-Pharma headquarters. In ten more minutes they were slowing down as the vehicle’s GPS detected they were arriving. A light came on to alert them on the vehicle’s screen display, where the interior sound system controls were. Then a message came over the car’s audio speakers saying in a sexy female voice, “Destination acquired. Prepare to commandeer vehicle.” It repeated this message two more times. They’d made it. Ozzie took over control of the steering wheel, and drove up to the gate...
“Good mornin’, how ’r y’all,” greeted Ozzie. Two gigantic security guards approached his vehicle, with automatic weapons slung around their bodies. Hands resting on them, they seemed quite casual and relaxed, fully expecting that Shamiso and Ozzie were just a couple of lost tourists. With their specialized training, they recognized the vehicle was a rental car, due to the license plate numbering sequence.
“Good morning sir,” said one of the guards with a slight accent. He was a big Tongan, probably as big as Samson, Ozzie’s teammate on the Wranglers. Only they didn’t move like they were sore and exhausted all the time like Samson did ever since preseason had started. “How may I assist you?” he then asked, and Ozzie thought that sounded like a polite way of asking, “You lost, mister?”
“We’re here to see Young-Min Jo...friends of his from Space Programme. Served with him on the Santa Maria. Heard he was hidin’ out in Toronto now. Thought we’d check out his new digs ’fore we headed outa town. He around today...’r is he in jail again?”
The guard liked Ozzie immediately. Thought he looked terribly familiar. His passenger Shamiso did, too, but he couldn’t place the faces.
“Sure...Mister, uh?” said the guard and laughed, politely asking for his name. Ozzie laughed right along with him. “Ozzie Guerrero. Ensign actually. I’m on shore leave for six more weeks just like him. This is his old buddy Ensign Kachote with me, by the way.” Shamiso dipped her head down so she could make eye contact and waved, smiling politely. The guard saw no further danger in the situation.
“Let me see if I can get him down here for you,” he replied. “Mind if we inspect your vehicle?” he then asked professionally. He was still smiling, but clearly he was all business. “No problem sir,” Ozzie answered happily. Then he and Shamiso hopped out of the car and let the other guard go over it with some sort of mechanical device, reading a small screen on it as he circled the car slowly.
While he did so, the first guard transmitted up to the main receptionist—instead of Zero, which would have been normal procedure. In a few moments, he turned back to them, and waved them through with a pleasant smile on his face. “You folks can go in now,” he said. With that, Ozzie got back in the car with Shamiso and drove on to the large circular drive in front of Min-Pharma’s world headquarters…
Parking in front of the building, Ozzie and Shamiso weren’t sure if they should go right in, or wait for Young-Min to come down and meet them. They chose the latter. It gave them more time to talk.
“So who’s doin’ the talking, love?” asked Shamiso. Ozzie shook his head and snickered. “Don’t matter darlin’. When he comes out, he’ll be so glad to see us...I’ll just offer to take him for a beer somewhere and we’ll get on out o’ here. Last thing I wanna do is draw a lot of attention to us talkin’ with him. But don’t worry. After we say our hellos, I’ll try ’n talk him into it. You save that file for when we get out the gate.” Then he added, “And don’t start in with shit from that report ’r nuthin’ like that. We need ever-body to think this is just a social call. Got it?”
Shamiso nodded obediently. She knew Ozzie had a nose for danger. If he thought something wasn’t quite right, he was usually correct about that sort of thing. “Roger that,” she said in reply.
About ten minutes later, a man could be seen walking briskly through the lobby inside. He was wearing athletic clothing, like he’d been working out earlier, or like he’d just been interrupted in the middle of one. It was Young-Min Jo, their old friend, and the smile on his face was truly a sight to behold. He looked happier than they’d ever seen him, grinning from ear-to-ear, and practically sprinting down the steps of the building like he hadn’t seen his best friends in ages. It felt like that for all of them, to be sure.
“Holy shit...Ozzie...Shamiso!” he exclaimed joyfully. “You guys came to see me? Really? How...I mean, when in the hell did you get to Toronto?”
Shamiso spoke first. Her passenger door was closest to him and she was already bounding out of the car to go hug him when he came out the front door.
“Just finished a show here last night, Bones!” she yelled back at him, “Ozzie had a match over in Detroit and he drove up to come see you, too! How the fuck are you, mate?”
They embraced a few seconds later and Young-Min Jo was so excited he lifted her right off the ground. Ozzie by then had wormed his way around the front of the car and grabbed his free hand to shake it while Shamiso hugged Young-Min’s neck. Releasing her with one arm, Young-Min Jo then tried hugging Ozzie simultaneously.
“Seriously? Ah, that’s great. I’ve been missin’ you two so much. God! I can’t believe you’re here!” Come on inside ’n I’ll show you the place. I got me an apartment upstairs. My brother’s got an office next door. C’mon in ’n let me introduce ya’ to him.” Ozzie waved him off immediately. This was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Na. We can’t, Bones. No time. I’m playin’ for Dallas now. Shamiso’s gotta get on to Los Angeles to do another concert with her sister. How ’bout you come take a drive with us, and we’ll go for a beer ’r somethin’? If it’s okay, I mean. We got about an hour ’fore we gotta get to the air terminal over at Pearson. Can you go?”
“Well, I guess,” answered Young-Min, not sure what the difference was, “but...see, they got this security thing here. I have to clear it with...well, it’s kinda fucked up, but...hey, how ’bout we just go sit in the lobby? You can do that can’t ya’? You said you had an hour, right?”
Ozzie thought for a second, and in that moment of hesitation, Young-Min’s famous intelligence kicked in (finally) after nine months of being nothing but a glorified supermodel for Enimen. He always had a sense about things, especially with his friends. His old self re-emerged. A seriousness seemed to return. The smile on his face began to fade a bit. It started looking to Shamiso and Ozzie like the young man they’d grown up with back on the Santa Maria.
