by Nyssa Renay
“Don’t worry about it…we’ve done worse,” Fletcher replied coldly. “If anything happens, we’ll just pin it all on Gerard and that crazy chick. It’s not going to be a problem. Just get the surveillance equipment ready, and I’ll handle this.” Fletcher slowly pushed Sanders away, pressuring him to get to the task at hand.
As Allie watched Gerard walk back toward the car, he motioned for her to join him. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she opened the door and stepped out of the car.
“You’re going in as planned,” Gerard explained. “But I need you to wear a bulletproof vest under your sweatshirt. For safety reasons. The vest is pretty thin, so it shouldn’t be noticeable.”
Detective Gerard pulled a vest out of the trunk as Allie took off her sweatshirt. Then he slid the vest over her head and fastened it as snug as he could to her upper body.
“We’re also going to fit you with a very tiny camera. We need to be able to see what’s going on in there to keep you safe.”
Allie nodded as she pulled the hooded sweatshirt back over her head.
“Relax,” Gerard urged. “This guy already knows you’re nervous. If you weren’t, it would really give you away. This is not something normal for anyone to do.”
“Makes sense.” Allie took a deep breath. “All right, let’s do this.”
“Follow me,” Gerard urged.
Allie subconsciously adjusted her hoodie a few times as she followed Gerard toward the other officers. She had to force herself to calm down, thinking they might not let her go in if they didn’t think she could handle it.
“We’re ready,” Gerard offered, presenting Allie to Fletcher.
Sanders brought over the tiny camera and fed the thin wires into the hood’s drawstring hole. When he had finished, it was barely detectable.
Within a few minutes, the radio on Fletcher’s belt came to life once again.
“Sir,” the speaker announced. “He just went back inside. No other activity to report.”
Fletcher unclipped the radio and replied, “Copy that. We’re sending her in. Keep your eyes peeled in case we need to get her out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Fletcher clipped the radio back onto his belt and turned toward Allie. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” she nodded.
“We’ll be watching you the entire time,” Gerard offered. “Just go in, pick up whatever he has for you, and then get out.” He led Allie around the blockade of cars and motioned for her to start walking toward a small row of warehouses further down the road. “It’s the second to last one in that row,” he instructed, pointing to the left side. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” she replied anxiously, beginning the nerve-racking walk toward warehouse forty-eight.
It took Allie only a few minutes to reach the warehouse. She noticed three fancy cars parked just outside, but that was it. She didn’t see anyone outside—no mob gunfight, no dead bodies; nothing. It was as silent as a graveyard in the middle of the night. She only heard the slight gusts of wind eerily whispering against her face, as if warning her to go back.
She gritted her teeth and pressed on until she came to the door with ’48’ painted on it in large numbers. Allie took one long, deep breath and reached for the door handle, regretting her decision to have a part in this. She slowly turned the lever, almost hoping that it was locked so she’d have to turn back, but the door clicked open. Cautiously, she proceeded through the doorway.
She couldn’t see anything in the darkness other than a chair sitting about twenty feet away beneath a beam of light from the ceiling. Allie’s footsteps echoed as she made her way toward the outer edge of the circle of light on the floor.
“Joseph?” Allie asked, stopping a few feet from the chair. She slowly turned, searching the darkness for any signs of him. “Are you here?”
“Yes,” Joseph’s voice echoed all around her. “Please…have a seat.”
Allie’s entire body trembled with terror. She was in way over her head, and all she wanted to do was make a run for it.
“I know you’re scared, but trust me, everything will be fine,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Just sit down, and no matter what happens, do not move from that seat. Okay?”
Allie nodded and sat down, obeying his instructions. As her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, she could see corpses lying on the floor in pools of their own blood.
“You did great, Allison.” Joseph’s footsteps echoed closer and closer as he approached her from behind. “I’m impressed,” he praised.
“Gee, thanks,” she said sarcastically. “Are they…” Her shaky voice trailed off.
“Dead? Yes,” Joseph clarified.
“Did you kill them?”
“Yes, but don’t worry. They deserved it.” His tone was cold and heartless.
“Not everyone deserves to die,” she replied somberly.
“Well…I’m absolutely sure that they did.” Allie heard the clatter of a folding chair being placed next to her. “You know, I was genetically engineered to become an assassin. I didn’t have a choice. I was designed to kill whomever they needed me to. You humans have a choice. If you try to harm another human being out of greed or hatred or anger, you give up the right to live, in my opinion.”
“That’s such a cynical way to live,” Allie said, voice full of pity.
“It’s not living…it’s just survival.”
“What if these men had no other choice to survive but to get involved with the mob? Are they automatically condemned to die, just because they had no other way to support themselves? They were forced to do their jobs and kill other people…just like you had to,” Allie argued.
“It’s not the same, Allison.” Joseph sighed. “You know that.”
“Do I?” she snapped. “I’ve said it before…it seems exactly the same to me. Why can’t you see that? You told me that you came to this planet to escape being an assassin, yet you’re still doing it, aren’t you? You didn’t have to kill any of these men. You could’ve just walked away at any point. You know, if you had offered any one of these men the amount of money you gave me, they probably would’ve left the city to make better lives for themselves. You have so much money…they didn’t. To me, that says you’re worse than they are. So, what gives you the right to live any more than they?”
“With that logic, I guess nothing.”
They sat in an awkward silence for several seconds before Allie spoke up.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she offered. “I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I guess I just don’t know how to process this kind of violence.”
“Where is this coming from, all of a sudden?” he asked calmly.
“I’ve been thinking about it from the moment I left the diner. You said helping me was a mistake, but I need to know you don’t truly believe that.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only way to justify that what I’m doing is the right thing. Otherwise, it makes me just as bad as you, and I can’t live like that. You’ve done this sort of thing your whole life, but I haven’t. You have amazing abilities that you could use to help people, like you did for me and all those people at the bank. Why can’t you help others instead of just helping yourself?”
Joseph tilted his head, calmly smiling at Allie. “I remember back during the prohibition days, they used to store vast amounts of liquor in these very warehouses.” He laughed, shaking his head. “It was ironic that most of the people who were breaking the law were the ones enforcing the rules in the first place. I mean, the police threw the craziest parties back then while the common people struggled to find jobs to feed their families.” Joseph picked up his chair and disappeared into the darkness behind Allie.
“Throughout history, humanity has always consisted of a greater majority of lower class citizens who struggle against oppression by the rich and the powerful.” Joseph’s voice echoed in the darkness. “That is, until th
ey have the chance to cross over to the other side and become members of the society that they used to hate. You see it now when people win the lottery and become part of the economic elite.” He sighed heavily as he walked back to Allie.
“In the blink of an eye, these people completely forgot the plight of the other lower-class citizens. Why? Because they’d escaped. They were given the chance to live the good life…the dream lifestyle…and suddenly, they started to see things in a different light. They began to understand why the rich and powerful did what they did and why they struggled to keep the less fortunate away. Money and power changes people; it always does. I’ve never met anyone who’s won the lottery or gotten a large inheritance and decided to give it all away to remain in their current situation, have you?”
“No,” Allie answered honestly, feeling a little bit discouraged and guilty about the ten million dollars that was waiting for her. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give it all away…I’m sure I’ll find a way to use some of my money to help others.”
“Maybe,” Joseph said skeptically as he reached into his pocket for his phone. “Well, you won’t get a chance to if we don’t take care of our little problem waiting outside.” He pressed 9-1-1 and waited patiently for the dispatcher to answer his call.
“9-1-1…what’s your emergency?” the woman’s voice rang out loudly through the speaker on his phone.
“Yes, I’m currently holding a young woman hostage. I’d like to get in touch with the officer in charge of the police officers surrounding the building we’re in. To be precise, it’s warehouse forty-eight at the Bloodburg loading docks.”
“I’m sorry…did you say you have a hostage? Did I hear that correctly?”
“Yes,” Joseph boasted pleasantly. “And I’m going to shoot this woman in the head if I don’t hear something within the next ten minutes. You can have him call me at this number.” Joseph hung up on the dispatcher. “Well, then. Let’s see how eager this detective of yours is to meet me.”
-10-
Several hundred feet away from the warehouse, Gerard and Fletcher were crouched over the screen of a computer tablet, monitoring Allie’s every move. The range on her camera was limited, and as the grainy images continued to stream to the tablet, the detectives couldn’t clearly make out much of what they were seeing, apart from one or two lifeless bodies on the floor near where Allie sat.
“She hasn’t moved from that chair since she got in there,” Fletcher grumbled. “What the hell is she doing?”
“Well…at least we can confirm there’s very little activity going on in there,” Gerard offered. “Nice to have some things working in our favor, for once.”
Fletcher leaned toward the screen, his eyes mere inches away from it. “To me, that body definitely looks like one of Palencio’s guys.”
“How can you tell?” Gerard asked.
“Because I’m the best detective in the city,” he boasted. “Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Then that means Joseph must be one of Christoff’s men,” Sanders spoke up, walking over to the two detectives.
Fletcher sighed. “Seems so.”
“Now what?” Gerard asked, anxiously. “It doesn’t look like anyone was left alive in there. I think it’s safe to say we easily have the numbers on our side.”
“True,” Fletcher said, rubbing his hand back and forth across his chin. “Let’s move. Sanders, let the SWAT team know to close in on the building. I don’t want this asshole getting away,” he growled.
“What about the girl?” Sanders raised his eyebrows. “She’s still in there.”
“She knew the risks,” Fletcher said nonchalantly. “Let’s move!”
Moments later, just outside warehouse forty-eight, a dozen men in fully-armored gear swarmed into position around the building as Fletcher and Sanders slowly pulled their unmarked cruisers up behind the three empty cars and got out.
“All right,” Fletcher said confidently under his breath. “There’s no way he’s getting past us now.”
“Sir!” Sanders hissed as he rushed over toward Fletcher, holding his phone out. “It’s dispatch.”
He snatched the phone out of Sanders’ hand. “This is Detective Fletcher…he what?” His face reddened in anger as he listened. “Fine! Text me the damn number!”
“What’s going on?” Gerard asked curiously as he watched Fletcher quickly hang up the phone.
“The bastard took her hostage!” Fletcher snapped. “And now, he’s demanding that I call him or he’ll kill the girl. How the hell did he know we were out here?”
“She probably told him,” Gerard said, shaking his head in disgust.
“But why?” Fletcher asked, now extremely furious. “She showed no signs of distress in there…he hasn’t done anything to her that would give her reason to tell him about us.”
Gerard let out a small laugh. “Then that means she’s obviously working with the guy.”
“A set up?” Sanders asked in an almost dumbfounded tone.
“I guess so,” Fletcher answered before turning toward Gerard. “And you brought her here!” he shouted, pulling his gun out and pointing it at Gerard’s head, “You in on this, too?”
“No!” Gerard replied, slowly backing away. “I had no idea she was working with him.”
“Bullshit!” Detective Fletcher roared. “Sanders! Cuff this asshole and get him out of my sight!”
Seconds later, Sanders and a few officers pulled him away and locked him in the back of one of the unmarked cruisers.
Fletcher reluctantly called the number that dispatch had texted him. He wiped away the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead as he waited for Joseph to answer. After six rings, the phone went to an automated voicemail that said the owner’s mailbox was not set up, and he couldn’t even leave a message.
“Dammit! He’s using a burner phone,” Fletcher mumbled to himself as he tried the number again.
After three more rings, Joseph finally answered. “Hello there!” He let out a small but pleasant chuckle. “Sorry about that. I was in the bathroom and missed your call. Completely unprofessional, I know, but I really had to go. How are things outside?”
“You think this is funny?” Fletcher shouted angrily. “Well, listen up, asshole. We’ve got this place surrounded, and I know that crazy bitch is working with you, so, don’t even try to pull that hostage crap with me. Got it?”
“Congratulations, Detective. You’ve cracked the case!” Joseph cheered. “You’re absolutely right. She is with me, after all. Give my regards to the wonderfully naïve detective who brought her here.”
“I got your buddy locked up in a cruiser right now. I know he’s working with you, too.”
“To be perfectly honest, I have absolutely no idea who he is, but I’d love to find out. Why don’t you bring him in and we can all sit down and have a little chat? What do you say?”
Joseph hung up the phone and pointed at the warehouse door. “La tiano mualla,” he chanted, making it slowly creak open. Everyone outside held their weapons high, ready for anyone or anything that might come out through the doorway, but nothing happened.
“What the hell is he playing at?” Fletcher asked angrily.
“No idea,” Sanders replied, completely lost.
Fletcher yanked the radio off his belt and pushed a button. “Move in! Go! Go! Go! Go!”
The SWAT team advanced on the open door. The leaders held their men back for a moment as they tossed several flash grenades through the open doorway, creating enough of a diversion to cover themselves as they entered the building.
Within moments, the heavily armed men had surrounded Joseph and Allie, pointing red target lasers directly at their head and chest.
Allie raised her arms, trembling with fear, while Joseph just stood there, calmly smiling, with his hands resting comfortably at his sides.
“Sir, we have the building secured,” Fletcher’s radio crackled.
“Copy that!” Fletcher replied, striding through the doorway as Sanders pulled out his gun and rushed in behind him.
“Welcome, Detective Fletcher!” Joseph said, flashing a wide grin. “Please, let me get the lights for you.” He tilted his head, smiling smugly. “I simply cannot stand having a meaningful conversation in the dark. It truly masks the subtleties of one’s expressions.”
Suddenly, the fluorescent lights on the ceiling sparked to life, revealing the full scope of the massacre. A dozen dead bodies dressed in fancy pin-striped suits lay sprawled on the floor in pools of their own blood.
With the lights now bright, Allie nearly gagged as she saw that the dead men had suffered horrific, brutal wounds that were clearly not from simple bullets. Several of the bodies had large, gaping holes that tore through the flesh and bones; others looked as if their faces had been mauled by wild animals; and a few were missing entire limbs.
The most disturbing sight was three corpses hanging by the ankles from the ceiling directly behind her. The clothes were burned almost clean through, and the skin had been slightly dissolved by an acid of some kind. Every officer in the room shifted uncomfortably back and forth on their feet, quickly losing their once-confident stances.
“Good God!” Fletcher shouted as Sanders bent and heaved on the floor behind him.
“Not my best work,” Joseph said, looking up. “But I’m sure he’ll get the message.”
“Who will?” Fletcher asked.
“Your boss…Palencio.” Joseph’s expression was cold and calculated. “Just before you came in, I texted him several choice photos of what happened here today. I think he’ll be very pleased with my work.” Joseph let out a long sigh, looking around the room. “You know, I really should get back into photography. With all the technology of today, I can’t believe the artistic moments I can capture with even the simplest of cameras.”
Fletcher pointed his gun at Joseph. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you right now.”
“La niesta stirento,” Joseph replied in a calm voice as he softly tapped Allie on the shoulder with a quick wink.
