Strange Robby

by Selina Rosen

  "Could you roll onto your side maybe?" Carrie asked. He did. She opened his gown and removed the tape holding Tommy's implant to his back. She handed it to one of the officers, who automatically put it into a plastic evidence bag. "Can you give us a description of the man?"

  "He was short, five-six, maybe. He was oriental, stocky, he had long hair." The man shrugged. "I was tired, he was wearing green scrubs."

  "Computer! Put Tommy Chan in a lineup program." Pictures of two other Asian men appeared with Tommy's picture and she showed it to Brian. "Was it one of these men?"

  He pointed to Tommy. "That one."

  "Thank you very much." Carrie started out of the room, the officers following.

  "Can I ask what the hell is going on?" Peterson asked.

  "No, you can't," Carrie said not even turning to look at him. "You get all that, Toby?"

  "Yeah, but . . . What the hell is going on?"

  Carrie waited for the officers to step out of earshot before she answered. "I'm not really sure. I don't want this situation to go any further than you and me. Do I make myself clear?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Have every inch of this hospital searched."

  "What do I tell the men they are looking for?" Toby asked.

  "Not Chan. I don't want anyone looking for Chan."

  "What then?"

  "SWTF. That's what they're looking for, and if you find one, you arrest him and you call me."

  "Arrest him? On what charges?"

  "Murder. Kidnapping. Pick one, I don't care! Just bring them in."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "And Toby . . . "

  "Yes, Sir?"

  "I meant what I said. No leaks. I've got direct link to you, and you're mine twenty-four, seven. You so much as blink without telling me, and I'm going to be all over you like white on rice."

  "They're not here, Deacon. That's the long and the short of it," Jason explained over the Comlink. "And now there are fucking cops everywhere."

  "Why?" Deacon asked.

  "The DA got here first. I figure she noticed her girlfriend was missing and thought she might have come to visit her partner's wife in the hospital. We got out of there in a hurry when she showed up. No doubt they realize the Chan's are gone, and that's why they're scouring the building."

  "Damn it!" Deacon swore. "OK, never mind trying to find Chan for the time being. I'll run computer checks and send men in his direction if I get anything. In the mean time the bosses have a contingency plan. It should be easy to carry out, even for you, Jason. They are sending you a science crew now. They should meet up with you at the rendezvous in an hour. Don't screw this up, Jason."

  The link was closed. Jason looked out the window of the car and sighed. He'd hated Kirk, but he sure as hell didn't want his fucking job, and now he had it like it or not.

  "Sir," Roger said, "shouldn't we be heading for the rendezvous?"

  Jason looked at the kid. He might be twenty-five, if that old. Jason started the car and started to roll. "Let me tell you something, kid. The agency isn't what they'd have you believe that it is. If you're smart, you'll get out while you still can. Change your name, take a job in a fucking gas station, but don't stay here."

  "I believe that what you are saying is treasonous. I won't turn you in this time, but don't let it happen again," Roger said.

  Jason laughed, although he was not amused. "Funny, I thought you died back there in the park."

  An APB hadn't pulled in Spider's rental car. Carrie paced her office. Spider hadn't called, probably because she couldn't. Carrie fought her tears and her panic. She had to think, and think clearly. Had to keep her head. Being clever under pressure that was what she was best at, so she had to keep her wits about her.

  It all made a kind of warped sense now. The So-what-if guys tried to have Tommy beaten up, but when that hadn't worked they went after Laura. Carrie had never been the target, and they had never intended to kill Laura. It was all part of their plan to wear Spider down, and it had worked. Tommy must have been a target, too, and so he had taken Laura and fled. But what the hell had happened to Spider? She had very deliberately left in the middle of the night, but where had she gone, and why had she left her behind? Carrie could have handled life on the lamb, could have handled almost anything but being separated from Spider, not knowing whether she was dead or alive. She picked up her mug and smashed it into the wall, which did nothing but bring George and the two cops into the room at a dead run. She held out her hands and forced a smile.

  "Nothing's wrong, just . . . "

  "I'll send someone to clean it up," George said, walking out.

  The cops followed him. A few seconds later a cleaning lady walked in with a mop and bucket and cleaned up the mess. George was with her. He waited till she had finished cleaning up the mess and closed the door behind her when she was gone.

  "You want to tell me what the hell's going on?"

  Carrie looked at him. Spider said not to trust anybody, but goddamn it she needed somebody.

  "You'd better sit down." She spent the next thirty minutes filling him in on everything she knew or thought she knew about the SWTF, the Fry Guy, and their connection to Spider. "She's gone. Left with nothing, not even a toothbrush. I don't know whether she's running, captured or dead." She started to cry and made herself stop. "I feel so helpless! What does she want me to do?"

  "It sounds to me like she wants you to live," George said gently. "I knew those SWTF guys were trouble the minute I saw them, but what the hell is their game?"

  "I think . . . Before the SWTF got involved, Spider had some theories about the Fry Guy. Crazy theories that she told Tommy, Tommy told Laura, and Laura told me confidentially. Spider had a theory that the Fry Guy didn't have a weapon . . . "

  "Well, that's what the witnesses say, but . . . "

  "Let me finish . . . " She told him the little bit that she actually knew. " . . . even before the SWTF showed up, Spider had stopped making any theories about the Fry Guy. I think it was because she knew who he was. In fact, I'm sure of it, and so was the SWTF."

  "Then why didn't she turn him in?"

  "Lots of reasons, not the least of which was that he was doing something she thought needed doing. He wasn't killing anyone who didn't deserve it."

  "How did she find him?"

  "Well, leave your skepticism outside for a minute and I'll tell you. You see, Spider's an empath. If one of their leads got her close to him she would have known it was him. There wouldn't have been any doubt in her mind."

  "So the SWTF want this guy because he's a weapon?"

  "Well, that's a logical conclusion, but I don't think that's all of it. See, I think the SWTF has been building people. Gene splicing. Genetic engineering. Cloning. Not that long ago these processes were just fiction; now they're all fact. I think the Fry Guy escaped from them and now they've got to get him back before he exposes what they've been doing. Since Spider knows who he is, either she's running from them to keep them from finding out, or they've got her, or . . . "

  "Or?"

  "Or she's dead." She sucked in her tears, and swallowed hard to keep her composure.

  "What are you going to do, Carrie? You tell me what you want to do, and I'll help."

  "I don't know what to do. I just have to think. There has to be something."

  Just then her intercom screeched.

  "Yes?" Carrie said.

  "There is a man insisting that he see you, Sir. Says it's urgent. Having to do with Spider Webb."

  "Let him in."

  Spider woke up in stages. Whatever they had given her had wiped her completely out. She had no idea what day—or even year it was. She opened her eyes, and the light stung them at first.

  It was at that moment that she became aware of a gentle swaying motion. A look up told her that she was suspended from the ceiling, no doubt by the back of the straightjacket they had put her in. There was a huge mirror in one wall which let her know right away that she was under observation, a
s she watched her self swaying two and fro like some prize fish on a hook. The rest of the room was stark white.

  "Well, this sucks," Spider mumbled. She was grateful at least that her head was uncovered. She reached out to feel around her and got that same blank feeling she had gotten before. The room must be made of the same thing the helmet had been made of.

  "I see you've decided to wake up. That's splendid," a voice cooed.

  "God? God is that you? Because I'd really like to get the fuck outtah here," Spider said looking at the ceiling.

  The voice laughed. "I guess you could call me that, yes. So you want to tell us who the Fry Guy is?"

  "I told that, dumb ass. I'm the Fry Guy," she said.

  The voice in the room laughed again. "Come on, now. We both know that's not true. Why don't you just tell us the truth? We don't want to have to hurt you."

  Spider kicked her feet until she was spinning in circles. "Cool! Wow! Now I'm getting sick . . . I am the Fry Guy. You saw what I did in the park."

  "We know you didn't do that, that you couldn't."

  "And why the fuck couldn't I? Hell! I could do it right now if this room wasn't so fucked. Come in here you cringing yellow dick, and I'll show you what I can do."

  A door opened in a wall and a short, fat guy in a lab coat walked in. He was without a doubt the biggest geek she had ever seen, and she laughed immediately upon seeing him.

  "Do you find something amusing?"

  "I was expecting Darth Vader, and instead all I get is fucking Dilbert. I feel cheated. Go back and get me a real villain."

  "We are not villains, Spider. We are not your enemies. In fact, we ask you to give us the Fry Guy to protect yourself as well as the whole program. I'm sure you've figured out that you're different by now."

  She caught his eye and glared at him. "Let me down," she hissed.

  He frowned a little. "No."

  "Let me down," she ordered.

  "You can do that till your nose bleeds. It won't do you any good. This room is equipped with a psychic disrupter. I'm afraid your tricks won't work in here. All you'll do is give yourself a nasty headache. Now tell us who he is; we have no wish to damage you."

  "I am the fucking Fry Guy!" Spider insisted.

  "No, you're not!" His face turned red with anger. "Why do you play me for a fool? The powers are sex linked. Pyrokinesis, telekinesis, and telepathy in the males. Telekinesis, empathy, and mental push in the females. So, while your attempt to give yourself in your friend's place is noble, it simply won't hold water."

  "What a crappy day this is turning out to be," Spider mumbled. She glared at him then. "I'll never help you fucks. You killed my mother, you killed my brother, and now you expect me to help you. You tell me you're not my enemy? Hell, you are my only enemy. Don't try to win my trust. Either kill me or let me go right now and forget this whole thing, because I swear to God if you don't . . . I will get free, and when I do, I'll hunt you down like a dog and kill you."

  "The deaths of your mother and brother were regrettable—a great loss to the program. We certainly don't want to lose you, but you must understand that absolute secrecy is imperative."

  "You spineless, soulless fuck! I meant what I said. I'll never tell you one damn thing that might help you, and if you don't kill me, I will most assuredly kill you."

  He pulled a syringe out of his pocket. "I can see that you're going to make us do this the hard way." He sighed. "Since we're going to find out anyway, couldn't you just tell us and make it easier on everyone involved?"

  "I have no desire to make it easier for you, and better men than you have tried to crack me."

  Robby parked as soon as the blip stopped, got out of the car and walked around with the locator in his pocket. He'd walked for about three miles back and forth before he found the building. When he did he felt like an idiot. It was a huge, white thing. On the front, in five-foot letters it said SWTF. Underneath in smaller letters it said Special Weapons Task Force, and under that in still smaller letters it said Securing the Free World Through Service. Whatever the hell that meant.

  Robby had kept his distance. The front doors, back doors, and side doors were all equally well guarded. But that would be a problem only if you found a way to get through the gate or over the wire and past the goddamned dogs.

  "Well, they're surely to fuck securing something," Robby mumbled as he headed back. He needed some sleep. He thought better when he'd had some sleep. It wasn't nearly as long a walk back to the car as it had been walking around trying to pinpoint her location. It sure as hell hadn't been easy following and not losing her, especially going through towns. It had been a long drive all through the night, and the sun was starting to come up when he crawled behind the wheel.

  The car was small, an old Hyundai, but it was the best he could do. After all, the five thousand dollars she's sent him had to pay for more than a car.

  Robby drove to a park he'd seen on the way in, found a spot out of the way, lay his seat back, pulled his shades down, and went to sleep.

  When he got up it was already dark, and looking at the clock he saw it was seven thirty. Quickly putting up the shades, he drove back towards the SWTF building, drove past it, then around it, and then he left the area. He sure to shit didn't want to get caught sneaking around. He drove around till he found a little diner where he went inside to get something to eat and ask a few questions.

  The waitress brought him a menu and a glass of water. "Hello, I'm Helen. When you're ready to order just holler."

  She was smiling at him. He liked that. So few people ever took the time to smile anymore. He smiled back.

  "Thank you."

  He took the menu, looked at it for a few minutes just to be polite—hell, he'd known what he was getting when he'd walked in the door—then he coughed a little.

  Helen walked over, still smiling.

  "So, what can we do for you?"

  "Burger, fries and a coke," he said.

  She nodded and started to go.

  "Wa.. wait up."

  She turned around.

  "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm new in town. I just passed a big building all guarded up, SWG or SWT . . . "

  "The SWTF building?"

  "Yeah, that one. Just what is that anyway? They got it guarded like Fort Knox."

  She laughed and shrugged. "I've been asking that same question around here for four years. Ain't no one givin' me the same answer twice. Some sort of government agency. A lot of them come in here for lunch. Real spooky bunch if you ask me. Won't tell you anything that they do, all wear long lab coats and button up shirts with pocket protectors—except the guards. If you ask them what they do they all say the same thing. Research. Whatever the hell that means. There now, you know as much as I do, so you can't be a newcomer any more. Your food will be done in about twenty minutes. I'll bring you your coke." She took off.

  She was pretty and nice. Robby smiled. He liked her. He'd never really had the time to date, hadn't even taken the time to look around. He was looking now. She was fine, nice face, pretty smile, great figure . . . and he was probably going to get his fool self killed trying to save some hard-headed police woman from a bunch of Nazi-like whackos. He wondered if a day was ever going to come when his life wouldn't suck. But at least Helen had given him something nice to think about.

  "I said I have to pee!" she screamed, then laughed.

  "You just went," he said.

  Spider winked at the woman technician in the room. "And let me tell you, Honey, you sure know how to wipe a snatch. I have to go again!" she screamed at the man.

  "You're not going till you answer the question," he said. He was exhausted. They'd been doing this for hours with several different drugs, and nothing was working.

  "Tell that to my bladder," Spider laughed. Then she pissed down her leg.

  "Oh, for God's sake!" the man screamed.

  "Hey! I warned you!" She laughed hysterically. The drug that should have made her spill her guts was only
making her high as a kite.

  "Let her come down. We'll try something else."

  Her head was pounding, and her butt didn't feel that great, either, after passing the beacon. Luckily she had flushed it, and no one was the wiser.

  The fucking drugs had left the taste of fermenting onions in her mouth. She felt like six miles of rough, rocky road.

  The scientist walked in. This time he had one of the So-what-if guys with him. He had a weapon in his hand that she was only too familiar with.