The Decommission Agent

by Nash, Lisa

  He hid the feeling of sadness that gripped him when he remembered the conversation he’d had with the girl on the street. “Getting your croissants, where else?”

  She said playfully, “You mean those cold things in that paper bag over there?”

  “You’re right,” he said taking her hand in his. “Allow me to run downstairs and get you some more…”

  A knock at the door alarmed them both.

  “You expecting anybody?” Thomas asked.

  “No,” she said. “Maid service?”

  The knock came again only more forceful. “Kid!”

  Thomas recognized the voice.

  “Get up, Kid! Gotta go! Put your tallywacker away and get your frankenwhore dressed. A shit storm is heading your way.”

  “Frankenwhore?” Cora said sounding offended.

  Thomas signaled for her to stay in bed. “Someone’s probably got the wrong room.” He slipped his jeans on, ran to the door and pulled it as far back as the chain would allow. “What do you want?” he whispered.

  “I want to keep my investment safe,” Duncan said.

  “Cora is safe…”

  “She won’t be for long.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means I got word that Grant Bio-Syn’s security team showed up at the Southside shuttle station looking for you two. It’s just a matter of time before they catch onto my bullshit trail and come back here looking for you and your unit… sorry… fuck, I forgot what you want me to call her.”

  “Cora… and what bullshit trail… and why the Southside shuttle station?”

  “I’ll explain later.” He looked past Thomas and smiled. “Hey, sweetie.”

  Thomas turned to see Cora in her robe standing behind him. “Who are you?”

  “I’m the conductor, and I’m going to take you and Thomas here on a ride on my train.”

  “I got this, Cora,” Thomas said. “Why don’t you get washed up?”

  “I want to know what’s going on…”

  “Cora, please. I’ll handle this.”

  She vacillated between demanding to know who the man was at her door and trusting Thomas.

  “Choo-choo,” Duncan said motioning with his hand as if he were pulling down the lever for a steam powered train whistle.

  She backed away and headed for the bathroom.

  Thomas turned back to Duncan. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “I don’t have the first clue. Never in all my years of doing this have I ever seen the Grant Bio-Syn security team on the hunt for a match and unit. They usually just handle cleanup when the occasional match gets dusted in some freaky sex shit with some client who can’t afford to let anyone know they’re into some freaky sex shit.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would they want us?”

  “Don’t know, but whatever the fuck is going on, they are not playing, kid. They went through every frame of surveillance footage at the station and are now on their way about 300 miles across state to catch you and Cora.”

  “Why would they be going across state to find Cora and me?”

  “Let’s just say, operation decoy worked,” Duncan said with a smile.

  -40-

  Winston Pitts, full-time real estate developer and part time husband and father of two, crawled on the floor of the cabin with a leather cat-o-nine tails whip shoved up his ass whinnying like a horse. His dick swung beneath him as he bit down on a bridle and was led around by Josie, his bio-syn.

  The tall slender brunette wore riding boots and a riding helmet but nothing else. She held a riding whip and slapped the real estate mogul on the meat of his pale white dimpled ass when he resisted her attempts to guide him around the room.

  He had reared up on his knees with hands cupped to resemble hooves when Denise Harvey and the rest of her team burst into the cabin wearing their HAZMAT suits.

  “Holy fucking shit!” one of her men yelled.

  Pitt let the bit fall from the mouth and said, “What’s going on?”

  “Thomas Miller?” Harvey asked trying not to let a snort of laughter escape her mouth.

  “Who’s Thomas Miller?” He asked.

  “That’s not a Cora unit,” the team member next to her said.

  She pulled her mask off. “But this is the couple from the surveillance footage?”

  “Yep,” The team member answered, “and this unit and the Cora unit kind of look alike, especially on security camera footage.”

  “Cora unit’s got bigger tits,” another team member said.

  Pitt frozen in the position they found him in said, “That’s exactly why I didn’t go with the Cora unit. I like smaller breasts…”

  “People,” Harvey shouted. “Shut the fuck up!”

  Josie, who was frightened stiff, finally spoke. “Have we done something wrong?”

  “Somebody turn her off,” Harvey said,

  A member of her team quickly complied and paused the bio-synthetic unit.

  “Get up, Mr…?”

  “Do I have to tell you my name?” He asked extracting the whip from his ass.

  “Winston Pitt,” a member of Harvey’s team said holding up a GPS reader to Josie’s left ear.

  “Wait a minute,” Pitt said. “Are you people with Grant Bio-Synthetic?”

  “We are,” Harvey said, “and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “Goddamn it! You’re eating into my time!”

  “I’m afraid it’s unavoidable.”

  He placed his hands on his hips. “I want to be compensated then. Another match… no two matches, at the same time, a male and a female…”

  “Mr. Pitt, I’m not in the position to make such deals, but I will pass your request onto the proper personnel…”

  “Bullshit! If you’ve got the authority to break in here and interrupt my fucking match time, you’ve the authority time to…”

  Before he could finish making his point, Harvey rushed him and sent a fist into his throat. The real estate developer fell to his knees gasping for air.

  Harvey patted him on the back. “Breathe, Mr. Pitt. You’ll be okay. I didn’t hit you very hard. You’re just a little startled that’s all. Breathe…”

  Pitt caught a clean breath and let it out. He slowly started to gather himself. “This is how you treat a client?”

  “Yes,” Harvey said, “this is how I treat a client. I suggest you try and be a little more cooperative.”

  “What do you want?” Pitt gasped.

  “First, I want you to get dressed.”

  One of Harvey’s team members tossed her Pitt’s pants.

  Handing them to him, she said, “Tell me. Did you happen to give a stoner a… flea dick sandwich at the Southside shuttle station?”

  Zipping up he said, “That’s what this is about? “

  “Did you?”

  “I did… a guy told me to.”

  “What guy? I need a name?”

  He hesitated. “I don’t want any trouble. I mean I wasn’t really going to go through with what he wanted. I was going to call you people….”

  “Call us about what?”

  “The guy… Duncan. He offered me money for my unit. Said he was going to take her no matter what, but he’d let me have my 72 hours with her, well most of them anyway. Said I might as well take the money.”

  “And why did he want your unit.”

  “I don’t know. Something about organ transplants. But I swear, I was going to call you guys about it. It’s just when I’m with my Josie unit… I can’t really think straight. I get all confused…” He started to cry.

  “All right,” Harvey said, “Calm down, Mr. Pitt. What does this man Duncan have to do with the sandwich?”

  “He gave it to me. He told me to give it to the first homeless person I saw at the station. Told me to tell them it was a flea dick sandwich. Said he’d take my unit right then and there if I didn’t do it. What was I supposed to do?”

  Harvey patted the weeping man on the should
er. “No need to worry, Mr. Pitt. I appreciate the information.”

  He breathed in deeply and attempted to gather his wits.

  “Now, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.”

  “Come with you?” Pitt asked with a look of confusion.

  “Mr. Pitt, you conspired to sell our product on the black market. That’s a federal offense.”

  “But I told you I was going to call…”

  “And I’m sure you were and that’s why you’re going to come with us. My interrogation team has some very special techniques to draw out details you don’t even know you know. Once we’re satisfied you’ve told us everything, we shall make arrangements to drop any federal charges against you.”

  “You’re going to hurt me, aren’t you?”

  “Oh, yes, Mr. Pitt. Very much so, but by the looks of what we walked in on here, pain seems to be your milieu.”

  -41-

  Duncan boarded the train car while Thomas and Cora stood nervously on the platform. When the man said train, he meant train. Thomas had thought the train system died years ago and by the looks of it, it actually may have died years ago. It was a dank, dirty, depressing place that reeked of urine and pungent body odor. It was easy to see where the smells came from by the people milling around the dark tunnel environment.

  Duncan stuck his head outside the door. “What are you waiting for?”

  “This is your train?” Thomas asked looking up and down the two car configuration.

  “It is. City just started leasing them out to entrepreneurs such as myself ever since the air shuttle mass transit took off… no pun intended.” He chuckled and slapped the side of the train. “It’s basically a shit can, but it gets the job done.”

  “And what exactly is the job it does?’

  “Moves cargo.” He shook his head. “You really don’t know shit about your city, do you, kid? The train system is designated a freight only zone, for transporting goods”

  Thomas gritted his teeth because he knew what kind of ‘goods’ Duncan transported.

  “Why is it we’re here?” Cora asked Thomas.

  “This might be easier if you shut her down,” Duncan said.

  “And just what does that mean?” Cora asked.

  “Figure of speech,” Duncan said holding up his hands.

  Thomas turned to her. “Look, I know this seems a little… weird, but trust me on this one. Duncan’s an ass, but it’s important we go with him.” He added, “I think” in his mind as he fought to hold onto a reassuring smile.

  “Just tell me why? What’s going on?”

  “Some very bad people want to split you two apart,” Duncan said. “I’m trying to prevent that from happening for as long as possible.”

  She furrowed her brow. “Why would anyone want to split us apart?”

  “Because, my dear, love is the sweetest of dreams and the worst of nightmares,” Duncan said with a bow.

  “I don’t like this,” she said trying to walk away.

  Thomas grabbed her arm. “He’s right. Someone is trying to split us apart. Duncan is going to make sure that doesn’t happen, isn’t that right, Duncan?”

  The conductor frowned and nodded. “Sure, why the hell not?”

  She shifted her gaze from Thomas to Duncan and then nodded. “Fine. But at least tell me where he’s taking us.”

  Thomas turned to Duncan. “Well?”

  Duncan stepped back to give them room to board. “I’m taking you to see my boss.”

  -42-

  “Organs?” Dr. Grant asked.

  “That’s what Mr. Pitt said, and he hasn’t deviated from the claim since we’ve initiated our interrogation of him two hours ago,” Denise Harvey answered.

  “A bio-syn would never pass any credible hospital’s screening process. They’ve all been trained on spotting our chrome tats . And certainly no hospital is going to accept organs from unknown origins.”

  “The key word in that sentence may be ‘credible.’”

  Dr. Grant tapped her fingers on her desk. “We would have been briefed by the Department of Justice if there was a black market organ donation ring. They know our product and the potential for criminal misuse.”

  Harvey reached across the desk and handed the chairman her acrylic tablet. “I got curious and pulled our decommission records for all our facilities over the last year.”

  Dr. Grant looked at the tablet. “Am I seeing what I think I’m seeing?”

  Harvey nodded. “I’m afraid you are. Out of 753,407 scheduled decommissions, 753,399 were carried out.”

  “Eight units weren’t decommissioned?”

  “Not according to those records. I checked records going back five years, and last year is the only year that does not show a 100% decommission rate.”

  Dr. Grant groaned and rubbed her temples once again. “So, we have eight bio-synthetic units that were not destroyed, a scenario that is not supposed to be possible. We have triple redundancy to ensure something like that doesn’t happen. We have an FDA compliance officer who serves as our fourth layer of checks and balances to make sure something like that doesn’t happen. How could Waters have missed something like this? The man’s up my ass about the tiniest violations.”

  “Would you like to speak with him?” Harvey asked.

  “Shit no. The longer we keep him out of this the better.” She returned to her habit of tapping her desk to help her think. “I’ll tell who I do want to see. I want to see that woman… that Pope. Let’s start with her.”

  Harvey stood and said, “Very well. And shall I bring the director for the Male Conditioning and Decommission Division, as well? Two of the eight missing bio-syns are male.”

  Dr. Grant shook her head. “No, we’ll deal with Pope first. Bring her to me.”

  “Very well,” the head of security said walking away.

  “And Denise,” the chairman said, “you should make every effort not to be seen with her. Should she meet with some accident it would be easier for all of us if the last person seen with her wasn’t a member of the company’s security team.”

  “Of course,” Harvey said before exiting the chairman’s office.

  -43-

  Craig Anders sat in a plain room at small metal table in a hard plastic chair that pinched his ass if he didn’t lean slightly to his right. It was clear that the money Grant Bio-Syn was giving A. Seaver Psychiatric Hospital was not going towards décor or comfortable furniture. From the looks of the whacked out lunatics drooling in chairs throughout the hallways of the facility, it appeared as though they spent all their money on meds.

  The door to the room opened and an elderly man with a long white beard and stringy white hair was escorted in by an obese orderly. He pushed the man forward and ordered him to sit down.

  Anders stood as the old man took his seat. “This is Albert Green?” he asked the orderly. The man sitting in the chair across the table from him looked very little like the Albert Green Anders had seen in pictures and video. He was frail and his nose was riddled with dimples. His eyes were dark and bloodshot.

  “The one and only,” the orderly answered as he moved to the door.

  “Dr. Albert Green?”

  The orderly laughed. “Doctor? We ain’t got no fucking doctors locked up in here. We got crazies. That’s it. This crazy is Albert Green.” With that, the orderly left the room.

  Anders slowly took his seat. “Dr. Green?”

  The old man looked at him through his stringy hair.

  “I’m Dr. Craig Anders.”

  The man didn’t reply.

  “I work at Grant Bio-Syn Industries.”

  Still no answer.

  “In the R&D department. Where you used to work?”

  The man smacked his dry lips together. “Never worked nowhere.”

  Ignoring the double negative, Anders opened a file and showed the man sitting across from him a picture of the original R&D team. “That’s you… in the middle.”

  The old man
studied the picture. “Never worked nowhere. Been here my whole life.”

  “Dr. Green, the hospital was supposed to adjust your medication for my visit today. Are you aware of that? Did anyone tell you I was coming to ask you questions?”

  The man nodded. “They adjusted my medication. I know that. I ain’t seeing colors everywhere now. They said you was coming, too. Don’t know who you are or what you want with me, but I don’t much care neither.”

  “I wanted to ask you about a bio-synthetic unit you worked on, the Jessica model.”

  “A bio-syn what?”

  “Bio-synthetic…”

  The old man started laughing. “You sound like that other fella that used to live here.”

  “What other fella?”

  “The one that used to talk about them bio-syn thingies. He was crazier than a whore on crack. Said he used to make them.”

  Anders grew frustrated. “You used to make them, Dr. Green. You were one of the pioneers of the industry…”

  The old man pointed at him. “Exactly what that fella used to say. He was the pioneer of something or another.”

  “Listen to me,” Anders said placing his hands on the table. “You are Dr. Albert Green…”

  “Al! That was the fella’s name.”

  “That’s your name…”

  “No it ain’t. I’ll tell you what I’ve been trying to tell the folks around here. My name is Carl Jenkins. I was born in Green Bay, Wisconsin. I’ve been shipped around from hospital to hospital since I was twelve years old. Got here two years ago. My head’s been locked up in a fog ever since.”

  Anders was taken aback at how coherently the man identified himself as Carl Jenkins. “You really aren’t Albert Green, are you?”

  “No, I am not, thank you very much. But everyone here thinks I am. It was the goddamn orderly. He got everybody thinking I was Albert Green.”

  “Which orderly? The one who brought you in here?”

  Carl Jenkins shook his head emphatically. “No, no. That other one…. Duncan’s his name.”

  -44-

  They had left the tunnels an hour and a half ago. The scenery flashing by outside the windows of the train was full of broken houses and discarded people. Shanty towns and trash only peppered the landscape at first, but as you traveled farther away from the booming metropolis poverty blanketed nearly every patch of real estate.