by Alex Cage
Black started with the bottom drawer, which was the largest. He slid it open and immediately was hit with a strong smell. Inside were a couple of bottles of hydrogen peroxide and some all-purpose cleaning solution. Black closed the drawer and opened the one above it. There were nothing but tools inside it.
He reached for the top and final drawer. Giving it a tug, he felt resistance. It was locked. He removed his lock pick and fiddled with the lock for a moment before it clicked open. Inside was a cardboard box with the flaps slightly open. On the outside of the box was a label showing a shipping address, but no sender. Black committed the address to memory and began to open the box. A smile grew across his face. Inside the box he found exactly what he thought he would: an unmarked Glock 19 just like the others he had seen. He closed the box, leaving the gun inside. Under the box were a few documents. The first was a flier—the same flier the protesters at Fisherman’s Wharf tried to give him the day before. The second was a small map of a popular theme park located south of L.A. called Fantastic Galaxy. The last document was a flier just like the first, except the location given was Times Square in New York. Black closed the drawer and replaced the plywood. As he finished, he paused at a noise echoing behind him. It was the slide of a gun clicking into place.
8.
BLACK RAISED HIS hands, exhaling sharply.
“You have ten seconds to convince me not to pull this trigger,” a woman’s voice informed him.
Black looked over his shoulder. Johana had her gun trained on him. “You shouldn’t point a gun at someone unless you’re ready to shoot them,” he said.
“Eight!” Johana counted.
“I’m here on business.”
“Seven!”
“I’m a client of yours.”
“Five!”
“The guns we bought from you are faulty!”
“Fou—” Johanna stopped counting.
“Let me show you. I’m going to lift up my shirt.” At that Black carefully grabbed a fist full of his shirt near the back collar, pulling upward. He felt the shirt lifting over the butt of the gun. “See. That is one of your guns, right?”
Johana said nothing.
Black kept his hands up as he turned to face her.
“Turn around!”
Black turned back around and heard the woman stepping closer to him. He felt the back of his shirt being lifted and the pressure from her hand against the gun tucked into his pants. Before she could grab it, he spun around, seizing her gun with one hand while pushing her shoulder with his other hand. The two of them whirled a semi-circle. The force was enough to rip Johana’s grip from her gun. Black, holding Johana’s gun, went to aim it at her but she kicked it from his hand and sent it smacking onto the deck outside. He reached for the gun tucked in the back of his pants. Just as he swung it to his front, Johana struck his hand, flinging the gun into the surfboard rack. Black jabbed that same hand at Johana, palm up. Johana stepped back nimbly, eyes narrowed, nose crinkled, and fist balled.
“Hmm. Someone’s had a few lessons, I see,” Black commented.
“Oh, there’s a lot more to see,” Johana scoffed, charging at him. She threw two punches and followed up with a kick.
Black blocked all three attacks with one hand before pressing the palm of that same hand into Johana’s ribcage. The push sent her staggering back into the workbench. Nuts and bolts spilled from the bucket, dinging against the floor. Sheets of paper flew in the air as pencils and PVC pipes rolled from the bench and bounced on the floor.
She regained her footing, fist raised and intensity wrinkling her face. She raced towards Black, leaping in the air, delivering one kick and then another before descending back to the floor.
Black shuffled backwards onto the deck, slapping away his attacker’s kicks. In the process, his back foot smashed through one of the planks of the deck. He quickly removed his foot and glanced into the hole he had just created. He noticed a PVC pipe attached under the plank. It was the same size as the ones on the workbench inside the unit. He didn’t have much time to think about it, though—his opponent continued her assault, delivering a near perfectly timed round kick at him. Black caught her kicking leg, quickly sweeping her other.
Johana hit the deck back first. Her gun was resting on the deck just a couple feet above her head. She released a loud gasp before rolling to her front and impulsively pouncing towards it.
Black noticed but was too far away to beat her to it.
Johana snatched the gun and aimed it at Black.
He quickly took cover behind a wall of another unit as two bullets chipped at the corner. He reached down and removed a knife from his ankle holster. Peeking around the corner, he saw Johana untying the rope for the Jet Ski from the support pole. Black stepped from behind the wall.
Johana noticed and fired another round, nearly hitting him as he ducked back behind the wall.
He attempted to step out again, but saw Johana sitting on the Jet Ski with her gun pointed in his direction. This time three rounds boomed from the gun, knocking chunks from the corner wall as Black retreated. The rev of the Jet Ski turning over shortly followed. Once again Black raced from behind the wall. He dashed down the deck as Johana rode into the open waters. He stopped at the end of the deck, watching her back as she bounced over the waves. Then something strange happened. She stopped. She was about twenty yards out as she removed what appeared to be a remote from her pocket.
Black watched with squinted eye and pursed lips. A second later, his eyes widened. “Oh you psych—” he yelled, sprinting back up the deck. He passed the open storage unit before he heard the first blast. It sounded like it came directly from the unit. It was a loud POW followed by an even louder crack. The wooden deck shook. Black’s heart hammered against his chest and a long high-pitched tone buzzed in his ears. The deck rattled under another explosion and small fragments of wood flicked against his back. He bellowed a grunt in an attempt to increase his pace as the hairs on his arms and around his neck raised in anticipation of another explosion. He raced through the chain link fence and, out of instinct, jumped. Floating through the air, he cleared the wrought iron gate. He looked down to his feet and saw wood erupting, spatters of water in air, and smoked debris clouding the area. He felt the shock across his back as he landed on the concrete sidewalk. The cloud of smoke waved across the street. Pedestrians gasped and screamed. A few drivers shrieked their cars to a stop. Others continued to drive past, some laying on their horns. Black coughed and fanned the smoke from his face. “Ahhh,” he exhaled, rocking forward to his feet.
He peered through the smoke and debris, making out a silhouette of Johana as she jetted across the water. Brushing the dirt and dust from his clothes, he jogged towards his car.
TOBEN PUSHED OPEN the door to his unit’s office. The door absorbed the force of his aggravation, swinging open wide enough for at least three people to enter before closing again.
“Okay, I’ll see you then,” Toben said into his cell phone before dropping it into his pocket.
Boyar was sitting at his own desk, headphones on, eyes glued to the screen. Ashley was at her desk, looking Toben’s way as he entered. At Toben’s desk sat Matt. He was pressing and swiping at his cell phone.
Toben nodded to Ashley in thanks. He quickly paced over to Matt, snatched the phone out of his hand, and placed it on the desk.
“Hey—”
“What were you thinking?!” Toben fumed. “Are you trying to get kicked out of school?”
Matt stood. “Why not? I don’t want to go there anyways,” he said with a sour look on his face.
Toben’s chest puffed, his nose crinkled, and his breath became short. “You’re walking on some very thin ice, boy,” he said, glaring at Matt.
Matt said nothing, looking into his father’s eyes with pouting lips.
Toben looked around his desk before looking Matt up and down. “Where’s your backpack?” he asked, raising both hands, palms up.
Matt hunched his sho
ulders. “I—um…” He struggled for words.
Toben fluttered his hands, briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “You know what? Just go to the back,” he said, pointing at a room in the back of the office. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
Matt rolled his eyes before grabbing his cell phone, walking to the room in the back, and closing the door.
Toben stepped to Ashley’s desk. “Thank you.”
Ashley looked up, slight smile. “No problem. But like I said, you’re going to owe me one.”
“Who was it you said you found him with?”
“Like I told you over the phone, some so-called ‘friends.’ There was a blond kid and a redhead. She had a smart mouth.”
Toben nodded. “I think that’s the same young man I saw him with last night, but the redhead is new to me.”
Ashley shrugged.
“I’ll ask Matt about it,” Toben concluded, turning towards Boyar. “Agent Boyar. Anything on that guy Black was chasing in the footage?”
Boyar removed his headphones and faced Toben. “What?”
“Anything on that guy yet?” Toben repeated.
“Oh, um—nothing yet. And it’s going to take more time than I thought, actually,” Boyar answered.
Toben walked toward him. “What do you mean?”
“The FR tech isn’t finding a match,” Boyar said, shaking his head.
“Our facial recognition technology is state of the art.”
“Yeah, it’s not the technology. It’s the image. The quality is not great. I sent it upstairs to the graphic artists. They’ll be able to pull better quality from it.”
“What’s the ETA?”
“With everything that’s going on, it could be a day or so…” Boyar sighed.
“What? That’s too long?”
Boyar hunched his shoulders.
Toben shook his head. “Okay, just stay on them,” he said, patting Boyar on the shoulder and walking into the back room.
It was about ten by eleven feet in size. There was a white board on the wall opposite the door. On the left wall hung a flat-screen. In the middle of the room stood a circular table with four chairs around it. Matt was sitting in the chair closest to the white board. He looked up briefly as his father entered before burying his head back into his mobile phone.
“Boy, put that phone down,” Toben demanded, closing the door behind him.
“Pfft,” Matt huffed, turning his face away from his father.
Toben walked to his side and stood over him. “Let me tell you what’s going to happen. Your mother is coming to pick you up and take you back to school—”
Matt, sitting, looked up at Toben then looked away. “I’ll just leave again,” he grumbled.
Toben slammed his hand on the table.
The boy jumped in his chair and looked up at his father, shocked.
“Your mother is going to pick you up and take you back to school. You’re going to apologize to her for making her cry, and when you get to school, you’re going to go apologize to the principal. Then you’re going to get all the assignments you missed and apologize to your teachers. After school you’re going straight home to do your assignments,” Toben said with a stern voice.
Matt sat quietly, face in a pout.
“Am I clear?” Toben continued.
“Ye—Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, sir.”
Toben walked to the door. Reaching for the handle, he turned back towards Matt. “That kid you were with, the one driving the blue Impala—”
“Last night?” Matt interrupted.
“Yeah, the one you were smoking weed with. What’s his name?”
“I call him Ty,” Matt answered with a puzzled look on his face.
Toben stared at his son, expecting more.
“Dad, seriously. I only know him as Ty,” Matt repeated.
Toben exhaled, nodding and turning back towards the door.
“Hey, Dad. Don’t you think you should apologize too?”
Toben faced Matt again. “What?”
“Mom. Shouldn’t you apologize to her? You’ve made her cry too, a lot of times. A lot of nights I’ve heard her.”
Toben stood quiet for a beat, eyes dropped. “Be ready when your mom comes to pick you up,” he said, opening the door. He stepped out of the room, pulled the door shut, and walked to Ashley’s desk. “Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Toben lingered for a moment.
“How’s the brief going?” Ashley inquired.
“Ah, okay, I guess. Basically, I’ll just be tagging along.”
“So Stokes’ team will be taking the lead, I’m guessing.”
“No, it’s actually the FBI’s operation, believe it or not. Come to think of it, I haven’t met anyone from Stokes’ team yet.”
“Hmm,” Ashley gestured, drumming her fingers on her desk.
“Yeah… exactly my thoughts. I better get back to Hanten’s office. The Petrak meet is tonight and Stokes is on his way back here to finalize on the briefing,” Toben said, looking back at the room where Matt was. “Hey, can you—”
“Yes, I’ll keep an eye on Matt until Kristi gets here,” Ashley cut in, smiling.
Toben returned a smile and walked out of the office. Near the elevators he came upon someone’s back as they faced the far wall. It was Stokes, talking quietly into his cell phone.
“What do you mean he’s nowhere to be found?” Stokes muttered. “Just find—” he listened for a couple seconds. “I don’t care. Don’t call me until you find him,” Stokes concluded, dropping the phone to his side and turning around. “Oh… Agent Toben. It’s not polite to sneak up on people,” he said, surprised.
“I wasn’t sneaking. Just heading to the director’s office,” Toben replied. He nodded at Stokes’ phone. “Your people having trouble?”
Stokes placed the phone in his pocket, grinning. “Nothing for you to worry about. I guess we better get this briefing over with. After you,” he said, throwing his head in the direction of Hanten’s office.
“No—no, I insist,” Toben said, extending his hand towards the office in invitation.
Stokes gave Toben a rigid stare before cutting his eyes, tugging at the collars of his blazer, and walking to Hanten’s door.
Stokes entered the office first. Toben followed.
Hanten was sitting on the sofa looking at documents spread over the coffee table. She looked up. “Have a seat, you two.”
The two sat across from her.
“Agent Stokes, have you talked to the FBI?”
“Yep. The informant confirmed that Petrak is meeting a buyer tonight. The FBI’s lead on this operation has his team ready to go.”
“I still don’t understand how running a sting operation on Petrak gets us any closer to who’s behind the bombings,” Toben said.
Hanten looked at him with pursed lips.
Stokes reached into his inside blazer pocket, removed a document with a picture clipped to it, and laid it on the coffee table. “Petrak may be supplying the explosives to Black.”
“You mean to whoever’s behind the bombing?” Toben clarified.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Stokes replied, pointing at the picture. “This is what they call ‘sauce.’ It’s a new explosive agent. Very advanced. Undetectable to any explosive trace detectors or bomb-sniffing dogs. This is what we believe Petrak is in possession of.”
In the picture was a small tube with a clear liquid substance inside it.
“Yes, we know about this stuff,” Toben said. “It’s clear, scentless, tasteless, and it can maintain its form under extreme temperature changes. And when mixed with something as simple as soda, it causes a large explosion. But sauce is not as new as you would think. There were variants of it used during Desert Storm.”
“We have intel proving that sauce was used in the bombing in New York,” Hanten said.
Stokes nodded.
“Right, b
ut at Fisherman’s Wharf it was a simple battery-charged IED.”
Hanten shrugged. “Okay, could be separate bombers.”
Toben huffed. “Both attempts happened at protests against the new law 324. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Hanten and Stokes remained quiet.
“And both were a bit sloppy,” Toben continued. “Especially at Fisherman’s Wharf. Petrak is careful. That’s why it’s been so hard for us to build a case against him. I don’t believe he’ll be involved with people this sloppy—just not his style. And from what I read about Black, these bombings don’t match his profile, not even close. We’re missing something,” Toben concluded.
The office became silent.
Hanten broke the silence. “Be that as it may, Petrak is still dealing tonight and I want you two to be there. You should probably head over to FBI HQ and get fully briefed on the specifics of the operation tonight.”
Toben’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and saw his wife’s number on the screen. He looked at Hanten. “Sorry.”
“No, you should take that,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Toben asked, confused.
She nodded yes.
Toben stepped out of the office, answering the phone. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi. I’m downstairs,” Kristi said.
“Already? That was quick. I’m on my way down.”
“Oh, wait—Ashley’s down here.”
“Okay.”
“She’s waving me over. Yeah… she’s going to escort me up.”
“Okay, I’ll see you up here,” Toben ended the call. He walked back into his office and noticed that Boyar was still seated at his desk, headphones on. Toben continued to the back room.
Inside the room Matt jumped at the sound of the door opening. He looked at his father expectantly, phone in hand.
“Get ready to go. Your mother’s here.”
Matt stood and stuffed his phone in his pocket. He started for the door, but Toben lifted his arm, blocking the way.
“Remember what I told you to do.”
Matt stared at his father’s face in silence and he stared back, waiting for a confirmation.
