The Birth of Death

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  He called it art. I called it disturbing.

  After a few seconds, his voice came over my SCAN.

  “Huracan,” he said in his quiet voice. “The Cartel asked me to call, as a courtesy.”

  Having Picasso call me was a courtesy and a not-so-subtle threat. Degas was sending me a clear message: comply or die.

  “Hey, Pi,” I said, “good to hear from you.” It wasn’t.

  “You know why I’m calling.”

  “You care about my health?” I asked. “You want to get on a court and get your ass crushed…again?”

  We were both avid handball players, using the game to destress and discuss business on occasion. He had yet to beat me, but had come close a few times. I heard him sigh.

  “As much as I’d enjoy a game with you, this is business.”

  “I know. How long before it gets out of control?”

  The incident at Starbucks was just Samael testing the waters. He wanted to see what I was capable of…feeling me out. The fact that he was willing to kill operators and non-targets was his way of letting me know he was still a psycho bastard.

  “Seventy-two hours. Including today.”

  “I have a feeling, and a Starbucks full of broken Cartel operators, that Sam won’t wait that long.”

  “Broken?” Picasso asked. “You didn’t terminate the operators sent after you?”

  “No,” I said after a pause. “I gave them pain. Their stupidity will end them soon enough.”

  “Well, Sam never did like you,” Picasso answered. “I told Degas he wouldn’t honor the waiting period.”

  “Sam has a loose association with the concepts of restraint and honor.”

  “Huracan,” he said. I could almost see him shaking his head. “You are Death’s Hand. Not Death’s merciful Hand. Your purpose is to take lives—not save them.”

  “We kill when necessary.”

  “Not when desired,” Picasso finished. “Officially you have three days.

  “And unofficially?”

  “Samael will hunt you and try to erase you, the girl, Lucy, and anyone else who helps you,” Picasso answered. “No one besides Samael’s people will move against you until the three days have passed.”

  “Degas is feeling generous.”

  “Because it’s you,” Picasso answered. “After three days he lets loose The Cartel. You won’t just face Samael and his dogs. You may want to reconsider this course of action.”

  “Sammy and I had a brief conversation this morning,” I said, looking behind us to make sure we weren’t being followed. “Why does Degas keep him around again?”

  “He’s effective and loud,” Picasso answered. “A tool that has a purpose. Would you like my advice?”

  “Of course.” Not really.

  “Put two in the girl and let them find the body somewhere.”

  “Not an option, you know that, Pi.”

  “Your code?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s going to get you killed.”

  “Was bound to one day.”

  “This code you adhere to is…inconvenient.”

  “Most codes are.”

  “It sounds like some sort of misplaced honor, but you have my respect. You are the only one who dared criticize my…methods. You were suicidally sincere.”

  “You realize that everyone is scared shitless of you? Even Degas.”

  He gave me a short chuckle.

  “I am aware.”

  I didn’t fear Picasso. I questioned his mental state because he was a twisted bastard. The things he did to targets would kill my appetite for days. As far as operators went, he was an extreme example of losing yourself in your work. He was so far gone I don’t think he could ever find his way back.

  “Just checking, in case you were wondering why everyone pisses their pants when you walk by.”

  “Indeed,” he answered. “I’ll be heading out of the city for a few weeks. I won’t be leading the pack.”

  That was a huge professional courtesy.

  “I appreciate it,” I said. “That explains Samael and his madness. I almost prefer you.”

  “No, you don’t,” Picasso answered. “Samael is hotheaded and sloppy. For all the skill and intelligence he possesses, he makes careless mistakes. You have a chance.”

  “Slim one at best,” I said. “He’s insane, not stupid.”

  “If it were me,” Picasso answered. “You’d be in the arms of your beloved Santa Muerte by now.”

  “Thank you,” I said and meant it. “I appreciate the gesture and the call.”

  “I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me, if the situation were reversed.”

  “Not likely,” I said. “For you, I’d unleash hell.”

  We both laughed.

  “You take care, Huracan,” he said after a brief pause. “If you beat this, give me a call.”

  “Give Degas and Samael a message for me.”

  “Yes?”

  “You tell them. Head and heart.”

  “Of course,” Picasso answered. “I would expect no less from you. I will pass on the message.”

  Head and heart meant I was shooting to kill. After this courtesy call anyone they sent after me would know—I didn’t intend to let them walk away.

  TWELVE

  Washington Square Park was one of the Nurse’s many locations.

  The cab dropped us on the corner of 5th Avenue and Washington Square North. This used to be an interesting, edgy, if not slightly dangerous area back in the day, before NYU decided to own most of the property south of E. 8th Street and establish a small university kingdom.

  We got out of the cab and I scanned the street.

  “Lucy, any Cartel in the area?”

  “Give me a second,” Lucy answered. “They blocked our frequency the moment you went rogue. Standard protocol.”

  “A little thing like that isn’t going to stop you.”

  “Their best tech is Bloody Mary,” Lucy said. “She’s one of the best.”

  “Bloody Mary?” I asked. “I remember her. She was good. Weren’t you the one—?”

  “I let her handle you for a few days when I was teaching her—yes.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Has anyone mentioned how scary you can be?”

  “Not to my face, no.”

  “Didn’t think so,” I said with a grunt. The pain in my side was getting worse. “Is the Nurse a no-show?”

  “I can’t track her,” Lucy replied. “She’ll let me see her when she’s ready.”

  “You can’t track her? Really?”

  “Hang tight. I’m picking up a scrambled signal approaching on your left. It’s probably her.”

  “Probably?”

  “It’s either her or The Cartel has made quantum improvements in their tech in the last year.”

  “Unlikely,” I said. “Degas isn’t big on the toys.”

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t make any sudden movements. She’s been known to open with friendly fire.”

  We made our way over to the Washington Square Arch. It allowed me to keep an eye on most of the park while affording some cover. I had no intention of moving into the center of the park, not with Collateral Damage roaming the streets. Samael was the type to fire an RPG into a crowd if he thought the blast would kill me. I felt confident that Stanford White didn’t skimp on the marble used for the arch he was most famous for. Sam would need a tank to bring it down.

  Staying close to the arch also kept us near the exit of the park in case we needed to evac in a hurry. Washington Square North led to the warren of streets that made up Greenwich Village. Two blocks west and we could lose anyone in that maze.

  I leaned against the cool stone that made up the arch. I made sure Ren stood on the other side of the opening. Sam would come for me first. She’d have a few seconds reaction time if they managed to find us. No sense in both of us getting shot.

  “You look like shit,” a woman said, approaching our position.

  �
�Hello, Nurse,” I said without making any sudden movements. “It’s been a long morning.”

  “I can imagine,” Nurse said. “Promises to be a longer day.”

  She wore dark NYC Parks Department overalls that hid the size of her body and probably a small arsenal of weapons.. A cap pulled low hid her face. As a freelance field medic that occasionally helped Cartel operators, she was equipped to deal death as well as prevent it. She motioned for me to follow her. I gave Ren a nod to join us. Nurse paused, gave me a look, and raised an eyebrow.

  “She’s with me.”

  “You picking up strays?” Nurse asked, giving Ren a once over. “That explains the chatter.”

  “What chatter?”

  We reached the door on the western side of the arch. Nurse placed her hand on a marble section next to the entrance. The lock clicked and the door opened.

  “Say goodbye to Lucy,” Nurse said, opening the door wider. “Marble kills any and all signals. Once inside you’re going dark.”

  “Understood,” Lucy said. “Watch your six, Huracan.”

  “Always.”

  THIRTEEN

  We headed down the spiral staircase covered in Guastavino tile. The stairs led to a main chamber outfitted as a state-of-the-art hospital facility. I took a moment to look around. If I hadn’t just entered through a door on the arch, I would’ve sworn we were standing in one of the city’s largest hospitals.

  Nurse peeled off her overalls and took off her cap. She pointed to one of the rooms that branched off the main corridor as she shook out her black, shoulder length hair.

  “Wait for me in there,” she said. “I’ll be right with you. Just need to clean up.”

  I stepped into the room she indicated and sat on the edge of the hospital bed with a groan. Nurse walked in a few minutes later.

  She was dressed in a black t-shirt, khaki cargo pants, and black combat boots. I noticed the double vertical roto shoulder holster, both holding pistols. Over this, she wore a white lab-coat and a stethoscope around her neck.

  “How did you set this place up?” I asked. “I feel like I’m sitting in Mount Sinai.”

  “Paid for it with Cartel money,” Nurse answered. “One of the few locations I have around the city.”

  “Can’t believe they let you put this in the Arch,” I said looking around. “How did you swing that?”

  “I’m well connected,” she replied. “Jacket, off.”

  I winced as I removed my jacket. My side was getting stiffer by the second. The pain had stopped sitting on the fringes of my consciousness and began stomping front and center.

  “Shirt too,” she said, handing the clothing to Ren. “Make yourself useful, and burn those, over there.”

  She pointed at a slot with a flame symbol.

  “I liked that shirt.”

  “Clearly, it didn’t do what it was supposed to do,” she said, holding up the perforated shirt. “This is the closest you will get to being holy.”

  “I’m starting to feel it,” I said, “but I don’t think they did too much damage.”

  Nurse shone a light on my injured side and shook her head as she prodded and poked. She opened a few drawers next to the bed and pulled out some bottles.

  “Thank you for your seat-of-the-pants triage, Doctor Oblivious,” she said. “One round bounced off you, but the other went right through.”

  “Other round?”

  “Missed that in your initial assessment, hmm?” she asked. “How the hell you didn’t bleed out is a mystery. How many does this make? Ten?”

  “A little more than that.”

  “Looks like someone really wants you dead,” she said, grabbing a small swab. “Or death isn’t ready for you yet.”

  “A little of both.”

  “By all accounts you should have expired on your way here, but you are a strange bird,” she said with another shake of her head. “And stop bleeding on my floor.”

  “It’s not like I can control the flow of blood.”

  “How did this happen?” Nurse asked. “I expect this from some of the others. You’re usually better than this.”

  I glanced over at Ren. “I retired some cleaners,” I said. “They got lucky.”

  “Or you got sloppy,” she said. “Was the stray part of the contract?”

  I nodded. “Her name is Ren.”

  “And you were being a shield to this…Ren?” Nurse said, looking at Ren and motioning for her to come closer. “You saved her life?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Ay, Huracan,” she said with a sigh. “You were always too good for this life. I’d advise against standing in the path of bullets in the future.”

  She grabbed one of the bottles and swabbed the wound. Fire blossomed in my side as she wiped the area clean.

  “This might sting a little,” she said still wiping. “Nothing a tough operator like you can’t handle.”

  “No anesthesia?”

  “This place may look like Mount Sinai, but I can assure you it’s not,” she said with a smile. “Besides I save that for the serious wounds.”

  “My wounds aren’t serious?”

  “Your wounds are the direct result of your carelessness,” she answered. “You deserve all of the pain you have coming.”

  “Thanks for the sympathy.” I gritted my teeth as she wiped the area a few more times. “Sure you don’t want to dig in a little deeper? I think you missed a spot.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  I glared at her, but knew better. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “If you want, I could give you a solid right cross,” she said, making a fist. “Should help with the pain.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. She pulled out a small pouch and opened it on the bed next to me. “A little more pain and we’re done.”

  “What’s that?”

  “This is Celox-A7,” she said, preparing a small plunger and inserting the tip into the wound. “Cutting-edge military blood clotting.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “And never will,” Nurse said. “This version is beyond classified.”

  “Of course,” I said and laid my head back. “As long as it works.”

  “I thought you wore polykev?” she asked, placing a large bandage over the wound. “How did a round that small get through your clothing?”

  “I’m going to have to ask the Forge.”

  I only paid top dollar for weapons, clothing, and food. I never bought into the designer mentality, and being an operator was brutal on clothing anyway. My clothes were expensive because every item was lined with lightweight polykev.

  Polykev was a lightweight dragon-scale kevlar polymer that made my clothes bulletproof against small-arms fire and most bladed weapons.

  I wasn’t stopping anything over a .38 caliber, but every bit of protection mattered. My clothing, along with most of my weapons, came from the Forge. That was good and bad. The good was that they weren’t controlled by The Cartel. Hanso, the owner of the Forge, sold to whomever he wanted and whenever he wanted. Degas had no control or influence over him. The bad was that The Cartel would expect me to pay Hanso a visit soon.

  They would have the Forge under surveillance.

  “As long as you avoid sudden movements, you should avoid making it worse,” Nurse said. “I have extra clothing for you and for…Ren is it?”

  Ren nodded. “Yes,” Ren said. “Do you have clothing like yours?”

  Nurse looked at me. “I think I’m going to like her,” Nurse said, tapping my knee. “Come with me. I’ll see what we can find.”

  “Nurse, one more thing,” I said, as they were leaving the room. “She needs a SCAN.”

  “Why don’t you go on ahead?” Nurse said to Ren. “Down the corridor on the right. You can’t miss it. I need to speak to Huracan for a moment.”

  Nurse stiffened and turned to face me.

  “Impossible and absolutely not,” Nurse said her
voice hard. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “If you don’t do it, she’s as good as dead.”

  FOURTEEN

  “I’m not The Cartel,” Nurse said. “She hasn’t been psych cleared for a SCAN.”

  Ren was in the other room getting her clothes.

  “We don’t have much of a choice,”I answered. “I can’t risk getting separated without a method of communication. Something about this contract is off. I think she’s important somehow.”

  “Put a SCAN in the wrong head and we have effectively driven her insane.”

  “I can do it,” Ren said, padding quietly into the room. Her arms were full of clothing. “It’s a tool isn’t it?”

  “It’s not up to you now, is it?” Nurse said. “You have no idea what you’re asking.”

  “I can do it if it’s going to help him,” Ren said looking at me. “I owe him that much.”

  “We don’t place SCAN devices in children,” Nurse snapped. “You’ll have a voice in your head constantly.”She pointed at me. “His or his handler, Lucy.”

  Ren turned and stared at Nurse.

  “You say that like there aren’t voices in my head now. What’s one more?”

  “So she’s just as insane as you are, wonderful.”

  “Can you do it?” I asked. “With the new HUDs, it’s a simple procedure.”

  “Oh, really?” Nurse scoffed. “Remind me again where you studied medicine?”

  “Can you do it?” I asked. “Or is this too difficult for you?”

  “Of course I can do it. The question is will I do it?”

  I smiled. I knew she would do it. With a SCAN and HUDs, Ren would have a fighting chance if something happened to me. Lucy could handle her and get her to safety in case Sam got lucky and took me down.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I owe you.”

  “I haven’t agreed to anything yet,” Nurse said, heading out of the room. “Both of you are insane.”

  “Will she do it?,” Ren asked once Nurse had left. “Is it safe?”

  “The procedure is safe, but she’s right, there are risks.”

  “Are these risks worse than the people chasing us?”