by Joe Jarvis
Agent White and Agent Orange pulled up outside of Themis’s house in a beat up white four door sedan. NESA had confiscated the vehicle during an arrest of a known cartel member for an assault against an NESA customer when they were visiting New York. But those records had been doctored, and the car was all set to be connected to the drug cartel the next morning – the smoking gun.
The agents were not dressed in their usual suits, but instead looked like stereotypical drug dealers, but with an upper-class touch that only real druggies would detect. Hooded sweatshirts and jeans with some popular combat style boots worn mostly by thugs and posers these days. They still wore their sunglasses, which they linked together so that each could tap into the others’ video feed. The Agents sat waiting to get the go ahead from Drake.
"Oh my God!" Themis exclaimed. "I saw two guys outside of Trix’s adap the day after you were attacked Molly. I completely forgot; they could be the same guys that left Barry’s. They certainly dressed the same."
"So then the only missing piece is why Drake would go along with Ted’s family," Atlas concluded.
Molly still looked skeptical.
"You don’t buy it?" asked Themis.
"No it’s not that… I just feel like there is still another missing piece. We need to know who those agents are if we really want to find out who they are working for, now that they are connected to two crime scenes."
A car door shut outside.
"That’s weird," said Themis, "There are only a couple people with cars in this neighborhood, strange that they would be driving so late." He stood up to look out the window and saw two thugs walking briskly toward his door, guns drawn. "Get upstairs, go, NOW!" Themis yelled to his confused guests.
The two stood up and started toward the stairs, "What’s going on?" Molly asked, concerned as Themis herded them to the second floor.
Just then the side door of the house could be heard slamming open with an enormous crash, and Mrs. Themis rushed into the upstairs hallway as Officer Themis pushed past her into their bedroom to get his gun.
"What’s going on?" a tired and scared Mrs. Themis croaked in confusion.
"Grab the kids and lock the bedroom door; Molly, Mr. Atlas, go into the bedroom with her."
Themis guarded the hallway as his wife, the two kids, barely awake, and Molly rushed into the master bedroom and looked out, waiting for Atlas. But Mr. Atlas had pulled out his own small black handgun that looked like something a secret agent would carry.
"I’m not letting you go down there alone," he said calmly to Themis.
Officer Themis considered his options, but silently nodded, thankful for the help. The bedroom door was shut, and Themis quietly peered around the corner down the stairs. He could hear slow footsteps that sounded like they were in the kitchen, or possibly the living room. There were hushed voices speaking to each other, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.
"Themis," Atlas whispered, his mini-tab in one hand, semi-auto in the other, "I’m offline. I can’t call for help."
Themis motioned for the two to switch positions. Themis pulled out his own tablet, and hit the emergency button. Nothing. He had Internet access, but a pang of interference kept blocking the connection, and offering up signal noise instead.
"They’re using some sort of jammer," Themis whispered to Atlas as he took his spot back at the top of the stairs, "I don’t think these are druggies."
A black combat boot appeared around the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, and a dark figure could be seen slowly rounding the corner. Themis aimed, slowly exhaled, and gingerly pulled on the trigger. BAM! The second shot was not as well placed. BAM!
The first bullet struck the figure at the bottom of the stairs dead center, and he tumbled backwards out of view, yelling loudly, "Son of a bitch!"
The second shot went into the front wall of the house. Themis didn’t move. He waited. He could hear loud moans and shuffling in the living room. Then he heard the sound of poly-melding-elastomer being pulled apart, and another loud exclamation in the same voice, "God-Damn-it!"
"Did he have a vest?" asked Atlas surprised and hushed.
"I think so… pretty well-equipped thugs," Themis added sarcastically.
There were more whispers downstairs back and forth, but not quite as hushed as before. It sounded like a slight argument ensued, and the voice of the man who had been shot was finally heard angrily saying, "No, I’ll do it." There was silence; one pair of footsteps faded, and then the sound of whatever was left of the kitchen door being shut. Atlas and Themis exchanged questioning glances.
Suddenly a gunshot was heard from downstairs in the living room, accompanied by something metal being hit. Then the same thing in the kitchen and then the dining room, spaced moments apart.
Next there was the sound of smashing glass. Thin glass, not a window, a cabinet. Listening attentively, Themis glanced side to side, thinking about why this thug would be breaking into his liquor cabinet. This didn’t seem like the time to dull the pain from the stopped bullet. But he wasn’t drinking the alcohol, he was pouring it. Multiple bottles of hard liquor sloshed out, spread around the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Then a full glass bottle of vodka came slamming hard halfway up the stairs from around the corner, and shattered with vodka dripping slowly down the steps.
Themis realized what was happening. He turned to Atlas "Go tell the others to stay put as long as possible, one of these guys is still waiting outside. Open the window but be careful." Atlas turned to follow his orders.
The swooshing sounds of a large fire being suddenly lit in the living room could be heard from the upstairs hallway, and an orange glow grew on the downstairs wall. Themis waited, his heart pounding, trying to decide the best course of action. He didn’t hear the other thug leave; one was in the house, one was waiting outside.
The crackling fire could be heard from the living room. Smoke was starting to make its way up the stairs, and the fire was casting growing and flickering light further up the staircase. Themis had to act before the fire reached the stairs and he was trapped. It occurred to him that the gunshots moments earlier were the thug shooting the fire detectors for the sprinkler system.
Since the fire was large and growing in the living room, Themis figured the thug must have been waiting for him in the dining room, to the left at the bottom of the stairs. Slowly he crept down the stairs, removing his shoes as to muffle the sounds of his steps. The smoke was quickly becoming unbearable as the column rising up the stairs thickened, getting blacker by the second.
At the bottom of the stairs, Themis paused with his back against the wall, slightly crouched with both hands on his 9mm. He wanted to take a deep breath, but was afraid the smoke would make him cough and give away his position. Luckily, Themis heard a muffled cough come from the dining room, giving him an idea of where the thug laid in wait.
Acting quickly before the thug had a chance to reposition himself, Themis dove from his position on the second and third stairs, rolling onto the floor between the dining room and living room and quickly popping up and aiming in a kneeling position with one foot planted on the ground in front of him.
The thug got a shot off first, but it buzzed past Themis – he swore he felt the wind from it – and shattered a window in the living room. Smoke began to pour outside. Themis was quick to return fire though, his training kicking in like Pavlov's dogs. He squeezed off two shots before the thug got his second shot off – that one went into the ceiling as the thug collapsed and crumpled to the ground. Themis' first bullet had gone directly into the center of the thug’s forehead, exiting the back with some blood and bits of brain, forming a flying saucer shape on the light yellow wall, darkening as the smoke stained it.
As Themis ran to the kitchen in combat position he kept his gun trained on the lifeless body, until he was sure the man was down for good.
The sprinkler in the kitchen was working despite the bullet lodged in the sensor. Already a layer of water covered t
he floor, as a thick spray continued to rain down, soaking Themis in the few seconds it took him to run through the kitchen. He paused for a moment at the door as he had done on the stairs. Then he burst outside quickly glancing to his right before jumping into a prone position on the porch, aiming down the side of his house toward the back where the second thug knelt aiming up at the open bedroom window. The window was open and bullet holes had chewed off pieces of the window frame. The thug turned toward Themis and fired, the bullets digging into the porch planks and railings, splinters randomly bursting loose like little wooden geysers. From the upstairs window two shots rained down on the thug who was crouched and slowly retreating backwards, narrowly missing, or perhaps grazing his sweatshirt. He turned and returned fire to the window, and Themis heard Atlas yell out in pain. Themis lifted himself up a bit and fired rapidly at the thug, who fired once more back toward Themis before fleeing through the back neighbor's yard.
Themis pursued him far enough to make sure he wasn't coming back, then quickly returned to his house, the front of the first floor increasingly engulfed in flames. Mrs. Themis had already torn open the window sill to access the rope ladder embedded in the wall for emergency escape. The older boy was halfway down, and his younger sister was beginning the descent. Themis grabbed his son by the waist and brought him safely to the ground, then coaxed his younger daughter down with encouraging words. Molly was next, and quickly embraced the kids to comfort them once Themis helped her down.
Mrs. Themis poked her head out of the window and yelled down, "Atlas got hit in the arm, I'm going to send him down but he needs your help!"
As Atlas swung his legs out of the window, an emergency response skyship floated into range outside, having been called by the neighbors who saw the fire and heard the gunshots.
Four men repelled from the low hovering ship and rushed toward the injured as a hose extended from the skyship and began spraying flame retardant foam on the roof.
Knowing he wouldn't get another opportunity, Themis ran toward the kitchen door, covered his mouth with his shirt, and ignoring the protesting yells from the emergency response team, barreled back inside, this time armed with his mini-tab.
The kitchen sprinklers had stopped, and the blaze had worked its way to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. The smoke was thick, so Themis dropped to his knees and sloshed through the kitchen still an inch deep in water, into the dining room, where flames were quickly approaching the thug's body, already searing his left foot.
Themis' shirt slipped and he breathed in a mouthful of thick smoke, initiating a coughing fit that didn't stop even as he fixed his shirt's position. Working quickly Themis snapped a picture of the thugs face, pocketed his sunglasses, grabbed the corpse's thick head of hair, and jerked it closer for a better angle, then snapped another picture. Still coughing, Themis crawled on his forearms as fast as possible back toward the kitchen door as something heavy crashed down in the living room amongst the crackling flames and black smoke that now engulfed the entire house.
Themis stood up, bursting through the kitchen door into the arms of two waiting rescuers, who quickly ushered him away from the house, and sat him down on the sidewalk while his coughing fit persisted. The rescue skyship was working its way down the house, quelling the largest flames first. As a second medical transport skyship arrived and landed gracefully on the street, an emergency SUV screeched to a halt on the scene. The skyship door opened and medical personnel stormed out.
An EMT ran over with an oxygen mask as Themis' family tearfully crowded around him, his wife scolding him for reentering the burning home.
Atlas was already on a stretcher, sitting up, with an EMT bandaging his arm. He gave Themis a reassuring nod as they met eyes.
"You went back for a picture didn’t you?" Molly asked Themis, standing back a few feet from the family, arms crossed as she shivered, hair messy across her face. She was still in a bit of shock, especially with this being the second attack she had survived in as many weeks.
Themis took out his mini-tab and removed his oxygen mask. His voice was hoarse; "Thanks for reminding me, I need to send these into the office for facial recognition. Maybe that will tell us how Drake’s involved in all this. Those weren’t hired druggies in there, like Trix." Themis looked at his screen to send the photos.
Themis’s wife chimed in, "I want you to go to the hospital before doing any more work! And do you mind filling me in on why our house got burnt down and we got shot at on the way out?" Her tone was understandably frantic with a note of sarcasm, suggesting she couldn’t quite make light of the situation, but understood that certain things took precedent in a crisis.
"Hold on, before we go," Themis got to his feet and beckoned over the detective who had arrived in the SUV to start the investigation and take witness statements. Themis knew him, since CCS plans were included in his pay. "Jackson, I need you to have someone bring these sunglasses down to the office and give them to the team that’s looking at the pictures I just sent in. I’ll be in as soon as I can, this is all linked with Barry, and the break-in at Molly’s."
"Ok, make sure you’re ok. But I’m sending someone with you to the hospital to take your statement before you forget anything. Let me know as soon as you’re in and we’ll talk everything out."
Themis gave Jackson a nod, and replaced his mask as a nurse led Themis and his family toward the rescue skyship. Atlas was already on board, and Molly joined by his side, holding onto the arm that had not suffered a gunshot wound, as the skyship lifted off toward the hospital.
Agent White was running down the sidewalk of a street a couple blocks away from Themis’s house. As the police data streamed across his glasses, White would take a left, or a right, or cut through a yard to avoid being caught. He was out of breath, and bleeding from his left arm which had been grazed by a bullet – though he hadn’t even noticed yet.
Agent White was finally a safe distance away, and the sirens were only a faded distant sound. Skyships had been deployed to search for the fleeing arsonist, so White grabbed a pod, and entered a busy location with plenty of bars that would still be open at this hour. He needed to make sure his steps wouldn’t be traced.
Inside the pod, Agent White looked at his arm noticing the gunshot wound, but decided that he could wait to patch it up – his dark sweatshirt wouldn’t show much blood. Then he took a deep breath, and made a call to Drake.
Drake was not sleeping, he was at home anxiously awaiting the phone call from his agents, with news releases ready to go, and orders waiting to be issued. He saw White’s call coming in through his desk screen, and answered.
"Is it done?" he said quickly without expression.
"Themis is still alive, Orange is dead. The house burnt down, you should be able to see it on the news already. Our car is still there, they might have already made the connection to the cartel."
Drake said nothing, just stared silently at the blank screen with White’s voice coming through it. He didn’t know what he felt; some mixture of anger and fear, with a little sadness thrown in, but overpowered by rage. "Okay," He finally let out quickly, shaking his head in agreement, "Okay." he repeated. "I’ll be in contact," and he shut off the screen. Drake bit his thumbnail, a nervous habit when he was thinking.
He waited for a moment, still. He hadn’t gotten rid of Themis, which was a problem, but at least the attack had been big and noticeable. Drake could not suppress his disappointment that Agent Orange had been killed, since he relied on the team of Agents for his most important and unsavory assignments. But he couldn’t dwell on it now. This was crisis time and he couldn’t let it go to waste – it was time to exploit the problem he had created so that NESA could "solve" it.
Back in the pod when the transmission cut out, Agent White swore loudly and kicked angrily at anything in reach, shattering the plastic cover on the front of the pod’s wall. He put his head in his hand thinking about his dead partner, his throbbing arm, and his failed mission. He tri
ed to calm himself as he got out of the pod at his destination. He walked down the street until he found the busiest watering hole, and posted up at the bar with a strong drink. It would be hours before they could trace his movement to the area, and anyway they still wouldn’t be able to identify him by his face, his glasses still intact. White had severed communication between his and Agent Orange’s glasses when he saw Themis’s face hovering over Agent Orange’s body in the smoky room, taking pictures.
Drake had arrived at his office, and flipped through a couple of channels until he found the story he was looking for. He kept two telescreens in his office in order to monitor more news feeds at once. There were so many different websites for news, each with their own live streaming channel, that Drake would have the two telescreens cycle through some preset channels finding important stories. A young female reporter stood outside of the smoking remains of Themis’s house, emergency lights flashing all around her on the still dark residential street.
"A vicious attack at the home of Officer James Themis has left two men hospitalized, and one suspect dead; another, on the run. The home of Officer Themis, the lead investigator for Corner Cop Security, was broken into after 23:00 last night, as the officer entertained two guests, one of whom, Molly Metis, a reporter for Business Ethics Review, was herself a recent victim of a violent home invasion. Ironically the other guest is the president of a major security company, Kittery Atlas of Atlas Protection."
This was news to Drake, and though a pang of worry at first gripped him, he quickly decided this would benefit him, only helping the public to connect the two attacks.
"There is some speculation on whether the two attacks are connected;" the broadcast continued, "a car owned by a known drug cartel member from New York was found outside Themis’s home, while the surviving suspect fled on foot. Reports suggest the suspect who was shot and killed after breaking into Molly Metis’ home last week was also a member of the same drug cartel, leading many to conclude that both Metis and Themis, head violent crimes investigator for Corner Cop Security, were targeted systematically by the same, deadly cartel. That Kitt Atlas was a third high-profile victim only fans the flames of speculation."
