Sweet Dreams

by Aaron Patterson

  He turned off the water. Or maybe he’d watched too many Matt Damon movies.

  Wrapping a towel around his waist, he wandered into the kitchen and poured coffee into a mug. As he sipped on the dark brew, he looked at his hand. No cuts, no bruises. He walked into the bedroom to look at his back in the mirror. Same thing—not a scratch or a mark anywhere on his body. He tried to think back. Was I hit or punched at all through that? He couldn’t remember.

  “Weird. Sheer luck, I guess.” He put on a pair of jeans and a black shirt and walked out of the bedroom buttoning the shirt. Just as he finished the bottom button, he felt a presence and froze.

  Someone was standing beside the fireplace. In two steps, he had the fire poker in his hand. One more step, and he’d shoved the tip against a soft throat. His hand was steady as he whispered in a dark voice that didn’t even sound like his, “Who are you, and what do you want?”

  CHAPTER 16

  “MOOCH.” KIRK BARKED INTO his cell phone as he drove toward downtown Manhattan. “I’ve got a name for you. I need to know where to find this chick. Now.”

  “Hold on, man. I’m putting you on speaker.”

  Kirk could hear Mooch shuffling papers and muttering, “Sometimes I think I would’ve been better off going to jail.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to find my chair. Hold on one sec.”

  Then Mooch yelled, “I heard you the first time, Mom. I’ll take out the garbage when I’m finished with this call.”

  Kirk moved the phone away from his ear and pounded the car seat with the side of his fist. Waiting was one thing he did not do well.

  Finally, Mooch said, “Okay, I’m back. Give me her name.”

  “Isis Kanika. First name spelled I-s-i-s. Last name, K-a-n-i-k-a. She’s the woman in the drop-off picture. I need to know where she went or anything that will give me a last-known address, place of employment, family members, and if she has been or is married. I need everything you can find about her.”

  He could hear Mooch typing, so he clenched his fist and tried to be patient. He glanced at Geoff in the passenger seat. The reporter seemed engrossed with something on his laptop. Probably his latest squeeze on Facebook. Kirk shook his head. Nothing made him angrier than all this techno garbage. Internet, cell phones, iPods, or pads, or whatever they were. What would they come up with next? Antennas to screw into the techies’ dimwit brains? He liked it better before the world turned electronic and people actually had to talk to each other rather than constantly check Twitter and Facebook.

  He put the phone back to his ear. “Got anything, Mooch?”

  “Hold on. I’m tracking her from where she left the warehouse, following her truck. Okay, she turned into a parking garage on Forty-Fourth and Fifth Avenue. It looks like an office building of some kind.”

  “Great. Does it show her coming out?”

  “No. Just going in. That’s all I got. As far as a home address or anything like that, all I could find are files from something called the Black Widow Project.”

  “I got that already. Keep looking, and one more thing. Try to find out what that project was all about and why she left, if you can. They said she was killed in action, but we know better.”

  “Fine, but I want four large pepperoni pizzas delivered to my house. I don’t work well on an empty stomach.”

  “Ha! Now you’re pushing it. Just get to work, Mooch, or I might forget to be so nice to you.” He hung up the phone and turned to Geoff. “Hey, I need you to send some pizza to Mooch’s house. You think you can take care of that?”

  “Sure. I can even order it online.” He began typing. “So what did you find out?”

  “There’s an office building at Forty-Fourth and Fifth where we might find Isis. That’s where she went after the switch.”

  “That’s the Merc Building, I think.” Geoff pulled up a website and was soon on the site of Merc, Inc.

  Kirk squinted at Geoff. “How did you know that?” He raised his coffee mug and took a sip.

  “I was an intern there before I got hired on at the magazine. They put out a publication that goes out all over the world about politics, third-world governments, ecology, global warming—stuff like that.”

  “Are you talking about the Global Advisor?”

  “Yup, that’s the one. It’s a multibillion-dollar company and very big on saving the world.” Geoff’s face lit up as he talked about the huge corporation.

  Kirk could tell he admired what they were trying to do, but he could not care less about the poor earth and its temperature. Not as if he could do anything about it, anyway. The environmentalists were all bent about carbon and cow farts, when China, India, and every other country polluted ten times what America ever thought of doing. We can’t build a nuke plant, so they do. And in the end, the world is polluted faster, but we sleep better at night, because we didn’t do it. “If they’re involved in this,” he said. “They’ll be going against everything they claim to believe in.”

  “If you think about it,’ Geoff said, “these people think they’re doing the right thing. They killed the prisoners at David’s Island, which were all convicted rapists and murderers, but they didn’t kill innocent people like the guards. They did a good job of burying the truth, too, with the whole food poisoning thing.”

  Kirk rubbed his smooth chin. “I think we’ve got a vigilante group on our hands.” Thinking about the case so far, maybe he’d been kidnapped to give the FBI time to close the case. That they spared his life fit the prison pattern. No innocents killed.

  He turned to Geoff. “This isn’t going to be easy. With the technology I saw at the prison I was in, and how good they are at covering their tracks, we might be neck deep into a highly-sophisticated underground operation.”

  Geoff nodded as they turned onto Fifth Avenue.

  The Merc Building was made of brick and stone, with dark glass covering the windows. It shot up into the skyline like a crystal through solid rock. Kirk pulled into the parking garage, found a space on the fifth level and parked. He reached for his door handle. “You ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  * * *

  MARK’S HAND WAS SURPRISINGLY steady as he held the weapon at the intruder’s neck. He could feel his heart rate slow until all he felt was the adrenaline pumping through his body.

  “Hello, Mark.” The voice and the face were those of a woman.

  He stepped closer, cocking his arm, ready to thrust the poker into her throat. “What do you want? And how do you know my name?”

  “I know what you’re going through. I’m here to help you.” She reached up and carefully touched the end of the poker. “If we could talk, I would explain everything.”

  He stepped back, weapon lowered but held firmly with both hands. “Start talking.”

  She looked up at him, her dark eyes shining as a shaft of sunlight cut across her face. “My name is Isis. I’m the one who left you the surveillance video, as well as the note in your car over a year ago. I’m also the one who knows the truth about the bombing that day.”

  “You drive a black Lexus, don’t you?”

  She smiled and laughed, her long, black hair swinging as she shook her head. “You’re better than I thought, but he said you would be. And after seeing the cabin—”

  His grip tightened on the metal rod. “How do you know about that?”

  “I know more about you than you do, and that’s why I’m here. We have been watching you. It’s only a matter of time until you begin to wonder—”

  “What are you talking about? Wonder what?” He knew something was happening to him, and he didn’t know why, but maybe he didn’t want to know.

  “Have you noticed anything different about yourself? Have you wondered how you know how to shoot a gun without any training? Did you ever think you were capable of killing four people in a matter of minutes?” She cocked her head. “I know this is a confusing time in your life, but I need you to come with me. I can
show you the answers you’re looking for.”

  He scowled at her. The woman had enough evidence to put him in jail for the rest of his life. Why should he trust her?

  “Who are you, anyway?” He ran a hand through his hair. What had he gotten into? What had he started by murdering four men—five, if he counted Pat. The way things were going, he would have eventually killed the kid, anyway.

  “I’m with the World Justice Agency. I can provide answers. I can take you home.”

  * * *

  MARK STRUGGLED TO PUT all the pieces together as Isis drove through downtown traffic toward Central Park. They were in the Lexus he’d seen many times but never seriously thought much of until now. She must have been watching him for months, maybe even years.

  The traffic brought them to a crawl as they hit Forty-Fourth Street. He looked around, trying to implant everything about the woman and the car in his brain. The car was spotless, nothing out of place. He could smell the faint scent of a subtle perfume. She looked confident as she drove, though she didn’t say a word. But every now and then, he saw her looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

  She steered the car into a parking garage attached to a tall building and drove up one level. The moment they got out of the car, she started toward an elevator at the end of the aisle.

  He hesitated.

  She stepped into the elevator and held the door. “You coming?”

  Here goes. Without a word, he walked to the elevator. The door closed. Isis pushed the buttons for floors nine, five and two all at once, and the elevator began to descend.

  It didn’t stop until they had gone at least six stories down. At least that’s how it felt. When the doors opened, he saw a large foyer-like room.

  Isis stepped out and motion for him to follow her.

  He couldn’t stop staring at the glass floor beneath his feet. A shark swam by the starfish attached to the underside. It was a huge aquarium, so deep he couldn’t see the bottom.

  The receptionist, an older man, looked up at them through his reading glasses. He smiled when he saw Isis and stood up to greet her.

  “Hello, my dear. It is so good to see you this fine day.” His voice shook a little as he took her hand and held it in-between his bony fingers. He turned to greet Mark. “And who is this young man?”

  Mark felt like he was on a first date and was about to meet the father.

  Isis introduced Mark to the old man. “This is Mark Appleton. Mark, this is Mr. Able. He’s been with us since the beginning.”

  The older man stared at Mark’s face, as if trying to remember. “Mark, it has been a long time—great to see you again.” He grabbed Mark’s hand and shook it, grinning around his false teeth.

  “Uh, yeah. Good to meet you, too.” He frowned at Isis. Again? What did that mean?

  Mr. Able ushered them to a nearby couch. The white leather couch was so smooth that he hesitated to sit on it. He guessed it was imported. When he finally sat, he knew from the feel it was Italian.

  He looked at Isis, who was watching him, an amused expression on her face. “So, now what?”

  “We wait for the boss. He’s in a meeting, but he’ll be finished shortly.” She leaned back into the soft cushions.

  He tried to relax, but it was hard when his mind raced with questions. Resting his forearms on his knees, he watched the exotic sea life that floated under the floor. The fluid movements of the sea creatures calmed his mind.

  He pulled himself from the mesmerizing scene to study his surroundings. The room had to be at least twenty-five feet round. The front desk was made of a metal that had a soft shine to it but didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen. On the wall behind and above the desk, big, bold, silver-and-black letters declared the establishment, or whatever it was, to be WJA. In small print below that were the words World Justice Agency. Maybe it was some sort of government agency.

  The corner where they sat had a big couch with an enormous plasma screen on the wall playing CNN, a beautiful Persian rug on the floor, and a weird-looking coffee table made of metal and wood.

  To the left of the front desk was what appeared to be a large door, except it had no handle. Suddenly, it slid down into the floor, and a huge black man stepped through. He wore a black suit and held a cigar in the corner of his lips

  He smiled as he entered the foyer, his bald head reflecting the light as he walked. He looked at Mark, and a big smile crossed his face. “Mark, my man. How ya doing?” Holding out his giant hand, he grabbed Mark’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “I’m Brian—or, as I’m called around here, Big B.”

  “Good to meet you.” Mark tried not to cringe at the power of the man’s grip. “I suppose you know me, too.”

  “No, man, but you’ve been the topic of many conversations.” He laughed with a thunderous noise that sounded from the bottom of his belly. “Come with me. I’ll lead you to—well, you’ll just have to wait and see. Come on, Isis, my little lady. You’re invited, too.”

  Isis followed them through the sliding door, which led to a long hallway with unadorned white walls. A door at the end had a keypad on the doorframe. Big B punched in a code, then a retinal scanner flipped open, and he stared at it for several seconds before the door retracted into the ceiling, and the three of them walked through.

  The next room had an X-ray machine and fingerprint center. The people working the stations carried sidearms and wore wide belts loaded with batons and walkie-talkies. Mark and his companions rode through an X-ray machine on a conveyor belt. All the while, Mark imagined what it must look like to watch a full, live scan of the human body, to see the action beneath the skin.

  He had to put his thumb on an electronic pad that a tall guard held out to him. It made a beep as he did. The guard motioned him on. Big B and Isis were waiting on the other side in front of a set of three elevator doors.

  “You ready?” Isis asked.

  “Sure. Not like I have much choice.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at Big B, who could not stop smiling. “What?”

  “Nothing man. Don’t worry. You’ll be okay as long as you do everything we say.” He laughed and slapped Mark on the back. It hurt and just about knocked the breath out of him but he ignored the pain. Just what did that comment mean?

  Like the two previous days, his circumstances seemed surreal, but he knew it was really happening, so he decided he might as well enjoy it. The place so far was amazing and seemed to be safe. With all the security, it was probably better fortified than the White House.

  The single arrow by the elevators pointed down. Isis pressed it. The doors opened, and they entered. Like the foyer, this elevator was made of glass, even the floor. He could see all the way down the very deep elevator shaft. He decided WJA must have a thing for glass, because it seemed they used it a lot in the construction of this building.

  As they descended, he could see a huge room with people sitting at desks, some standing. It looked like a command center. The far wall was covered with screens that ran from floor to ceiling. The room had to be two stories tall. He tried to get a closer look, but they continued descending, and the room disappeared from view.

  Looking down, he saw that they were almost to the bottom of the elevator shaft. They came to a stop, and he nearly fell over when the elevator began to travel sideways through a tunnel. When it turned, he could see a light ahead of them. As they came closer, he felt the machine slowing down.

  “This is our stop.” Isis smoothed her long hair and waited for the doors to open. This floor was different from what he’d seen so far. The walls were made of brick and had lights embedded into them. The curved entry ceiling was amazingly high for how far underground they were. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung from the center.

  Beneath the chandelier was a desk with a short, dark-haired man sitting behind it. He looked up from his computer as they walked in. Mark noticed the room had two exits—the elevator and a set of wide double doors made of thick wood. Must be the boss’
s office.

  “Welcome to the WJA, Mr. Appleton.” The man stood, shook his hand, and pointed to the double doors. “He’s expecting you.”

  Big B walked over to the heavy door, turned the handle, and opened it for Mark. He looked at Isis, who nodded for him to go in. He hesitated for a brief moment, then walked through the open door into a large office.

  In contrast to what he’d seen so far, the room was dimly lit and had bookshelves on all the walls. It looked like an eighteenth century library. At the far end of the large room, he saw an old, oak desk piled with papers. A computer monitor sat off to one side. A large, black chair was turned away from him, but he could tell someone was sitting in it, reading a leather-bound book that looked to be over a hundred years old. The bookshelves looked like the same ones in the DVD.

  “Mark Appleton. It’s been a long time.”

  * * *

  GEOFF AND KIRK WALKED into the main lobby of the Merc Building, which was everything one would expect from a billion-dollar company. The floors were covered with marble, interwoven with a globe of the world. The elevators they’d ridden ran along the east wall, with six different stations, and they were lined with intricate engravings of letters which Kirk couldn’t read.

  A huge, glass dome covered the whole lobby area. Sunrays streamed in, making the place glow with natural sunlight.

  Geoff stopped to examine twenty-foot-tall palm trees that stood in the middle of the entryway. “Wow, some place, huh?” he said as he looked at the tall palms.

  “Yeah, real fancy. Let’s see if anyone remembers our lady friend.”

  The large front desk curved in a half-moon shape was big enough to host three receptionists. The one in the middle was talking on the phone, trying to give driving directions to someone. Kirk made eye contact with a shorthaired blonde girl who couldn’t be older than twenty. She smiled and asked if she could help them.