Company Ink

by J. A. Cipriano

  “What the hell?” I snarled, scrambling to my feet. As I started to go for my pen, a figure stepped through the open doorway.

  It was the Elvis impersonator, and he had a gun pointed at me.

  “Hello, Roger,” Presley said through the fake Elvis. The voice was strained and uncertain, but the gun was steady. “Keep your hands up where I can see them. I will shoot if I have to.”

  Unfortunately, I believed him. Well, he was technically a her right now. I raised my hands and glared at Presley, wishing this was actually her so I could confront the bitch. “What did you blast me with?”

  Not Really Elvis shrugged. “Just a small EMP. You know what that is, don’t you?” Presley said. “Electromagnetic pulses can fry any non-hardened tech, including your fancy suit. And your phone, so you can’t call for backup.”

  Great. Part of my plan involved contacting Agent Smith when I needed her. At least I knew she’d show up here if I didn’t call when I was supposed to, but now I’d have to hope that wouldn’t be too late. “Fine, you got me,” I said. “Where are Ronnie and Lisa?”

  “They’re out back. As soon as you come with me, they’ll be released,” Presley said. “So, you just head over to that car, and—”

  “Hell, no. I don’t trust you,” I said, keeping my hands up as I tried to think of as many ways to stall as possible. “I’m not going anywhere until you show me they’re safe. And I mean in person, not on some video feed.”

  The Elvis impersonator shook his head, and then gestured with his free hand. “All right, I’ll show you. Come inside.”

  I hesitated for a few seconds before I started toward the entrance. Presley kept the gun on me the whole time, moving back only slightly to let me pass, and then said, “Past the bathrooms and out the back door. If your hands go down, I’ll shoot.”

  Gritting my teeth, I started across the bar for the hallway leading to the bathrooms. I pushed open the exterior door with my hip, and Presley reached out behind me to hold it open as I stepped through, and then moved outside with me.

  Behind the bar was a large area surrounded by the stockade fence I’d noticed the first time I came to this place, which looked like a scrap yard. The ground was bare, hard-packed dirt, and the space was littered with the rusting hulks of appliances, furniture, and vehicles. “Yeah, I love what you’ve done with the place,” I said as I scanned the junk and came around to face Presley. “So, where are they?”

  Fake Elvis nodded to the right, at a derelict car that looked like it’d been sitting there since the sixties. “Over there, tied up in the back seat. You can look, but don’t touch,” Presley said, pulling a small device with a blinking light from a pocket. “I push this button, and they go boom.”

  Cold chills shot down my spine as I approached the car slowly and peered through one of the filthy back windows. I could just make out two figures inside, one lying across the back seat and the other curled on the floor. As I watched, the figure on the seat stirred and struggled weakly, but didn’t get very far.

  “Goddamn it,” I spat as I whirled to face Presley. “Get them out of there, right now.”

  “Like I said. They’ll be released when you come with me.” Presley made an emphatic gesture with the gun … and that was when I noticed that the hand holding the detonator was shaking slightly. “Now, get your ass back out front and—”

  “Hold on a minute,” I said, still stalling until the time Agent Smith was supposed to show up. Plus, the small part of me that still wanted to believe that the woman I met in Monte Carlo wasn’t really a supervillain had piped back up, whispering that maybe there was a chance I could talk her down. “You don’t really want to do this, do you? I mean, you really seemed to like me when we met at the poker game.”

  Presley recoiled like I’d smacked her Elvis puppet in the face. “You know who I am,” the man she was possessing whispered. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Monte Carlo doesn’t matter, either. Nothing does.” Now both hands were shaking, and the gun drifted down slightly before Fake Elvis lifted it again with renewed resolve. “You’re coming with me, right now.”

  “I’ve got a better idea,” I said, taking a cautious step toward Presley. “How about instead of trading my pen for the girls, I trade your brother?”

  “You have him?” Presley said hoarsely. “You … you actually took Henry down?”

  I gave a deliberate nod. “He’s in the custody of the FBI right now,” I said. “So, if you want him back—”

  “No, I don’t want him,” Presley said, this time lowering the gun on purpose as a haunted expression spread across the Elvis impersonator’s face. “You have to kill him. I mean it.”

  I frowned. “Does this mean you aren’t working with your brother?”

  “No! I mean, yes, but …” Presley shuddered out a breath. “He’s a monster. I had to do what he said, I had no choice. He only lets me live because I own the pen, but if I ever gave it to him …”

  “He’d kill you. Right?” I said as I took a chance and lowered my arms slowly.

  “Yes, but that’s not the only reason I haven’t given it to him.” Presley’s features crumpled, and I thought Fake Elvis might start crying. That would be pretty bizarre. “He can’t have this kind of power. I’ll never let him. And if the FBI really has him, they need to just kill him. Before he gets away.”

  “How do I know I can trust you?” I said, moving another step forward. “I want to believe you, I really do. But—”

  “I don’t want your pen!” Presley cried. “I didn’t want to kidnap those women, I don’t want to blow them up, I don’t want any of this! Here, I’ll let them go right now. You can have the gun, the detonator, everything. Just kill my brother. Please.”

  Just as the possessed Elvis started for the car that held Ronnie and Lisa, there was a shimmer of light to my left and Elvis froze in place. Agent Smith stepped through the portal and looked from the unmoving figure to me. “Um, Roger?” she said. “That doesn’t look like Gladys Aaron.”

  “It’s not. She’s possessing him with her pen,” I told her as I turned on a heel and headed for the car. “Listen, Ronnie and Lisa are in there, and apparently it’s wired with a bomb somehow. Can you deactivate it or something, so I can get them out? And I need to explain a few things.”

  “Yes, you do,” Agent Smith said, looking at me critically. “Like, for example, why don’t you just use your pen to deactivate the bomb?”

  “Oh my God, you’re right,” I groaned as I got my pen out. “Honestly, I hadn’t even thought of using it because I had the suit, and Presley would’ve just erased anything I did. Except now I know she won’t. Got any paper on that clipboard of yours?”

  She raised an eyebrow and handed me a piece of paper. “What do you mean, she won’t? I thought Presley was trying to capture you and get your pen.”

  “No, she wasn’t. That was all Henry,” I said as I wrote The car bomb is deactivated and then added Ronnie and Lisa are freed from their bonds. “He’s been forcing her to work with him, and all she’s been trying to do is make sure he doesn’t own the pen.”

  “I see,” Agent Smith said carefully. “You’re sure of this?”

  “Positive. She was about to hand over the gun and detonator and let the girls go when you got here,” I told her. “But she says we have to kill Henry, because he’s a monster and he won’t stop.”

  The agent raised one perfect eyebrow. “That’s not how the FBI does things.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should make an exception,” I said, thinking of everything I’d learned about Henry Aaron, woman-beating drug lord.

  Agent Smith sighed and approached the time-stopped Elvis impersonator. “Better safe than sorry,” she said as she plucked the detonator from his hand, tucked it into a pocket, and then took the gun. “Maybe you should take this,” she said, holding the gun out to me. “I already have one.”

  “Yeah, I’ll hold onto it,” I said as I took the weapon and shoved it in my waistband. “So, I don’t kn
ow where the real Presley is, but I’m sure she’ll tell me now. I think we can get all this sorted out.”

  “Maybe we can. But whatever happens, we need to get that pen,” Agent Smith said as she positioned her clipboard and grabbed her own pen. “Remember, she can’t give it to you, or anyone else. It has to be taken away. That way, Presley remains the owner, but the pen is inactive.”

  “Got it,” I said, nodding at the clipboard. “What are you doing?”

  “Unstopping time,” she said as she wrote something down.

  When Agent Smith finished writing, the Elvis impersonator stumbled and almost fell, then stood there blinking. “What happened? Who are you?” Presley said in tones approaching panic. “Where …?”

  Just then, there was a scrambling sound from the car and a loud bang as one of the girls kicked the door open from the inside. Ronnie climbed out, and then helped Lisa off the floor. They both looked furious as they took stock of things, and then relaxed when they saw me. “Roger!” Ronnie called as she started toward us with Lisa beside her. “Um … why is Elvis here? And who’s that?” she said, looking at the bemused FBI agent.

  “It’s a really long story,” I said as I hugged her, and then Lisa. “Are you two okay?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. Mostly pissed off,” Ronnie said as she brushed at her rumpled clothing.

  A ringing phone interrupted the conversation. I knew it wasn’t mine, since the EMP had fried it. Agent Smith held a finger up, pulled out her phone and turned away to answer it.

  Presley watched me warily, probably wondering how I was going to explain the Elvis impersonator and everything else. But before I could start, Agent Smith said loudly, “He did what? When?” There was a short pause, and she said, “Goddamn it, find him!”

  Fake Elvis blanched as Presley went into horrified shock. “Find who?”

  I had a sinking feeling I knew. But Agent Smith answered before I could guess. “Henry Aaron escaped custody an hour ago,” she said, turning back toward us with a furious expression stamped on her face. “And no one bothered to tell me until now. Someone is getting fired by the end of the day, I promise you that.”

  “Oh my God,” Presley said, taking a stumbling step back and looking around as if Henry was about to show up here. “He’s going to … I have to go. Right now.”

  “Wait, where are you?” I blurted. “I’ll come get you, and we’ll make sure he can’t find you.”

  “Eighty-six thirty Harrison Place. It’s a private office building. Come to the top floor,” Presley said. “Please hurry.”

  “What is he talking about?” Lisa said as Presley finished speaking, looking hard at the Elvis impersonator. “Is this guy insane, or what?”

  Just then, Elvis shuddered all over and stared blankly into space for a few seconds, and then bolted stiff as his eyes bugged out. “Um, where the hell am I?” he said, backing away from all of us rapidly. “Who are you people? A second ago I was just sitting at home and watching Ellen. What the fuck happened?”

  “Sorry, man. There’s absolutely no way to explain,” I told him. “All I can tell you is we didn’t have anything to do with it. But if it helps, you’re behind Club Ace and your car might be out front. Do you drive a Chevy Bel Air?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m going now,” he blurted, turning on a heel to head for the building at a shambling run.

  “Wow. Someone’s really going to have to explain what all that was about,” Ronnie said as both she and Lisa stared after him.

  “I will soon, I promise. But right now, you two need to get back to the base and let everyone know you’re okay, and I’m okay. I have to go get Ann. Presley. Or Gladys, whatever her name is,” I said, realizing I sounded just as crazy as the fake Elvis. “Um, maybe I’ll call an Uber, or—”

  “You drove here, correct?” Agent Smith said smoothly. “Why don’t you have these ladies take your car home, and I’ll deliver you to Presley’s address?”

  “You will?” I said, thinking that she probably meant deliver via portal. “Um. Is it safe?”

  “Perfectly,” she said with a smile.

  “Okay, then.” I dug the keys to the rental from my pocket and handed them to Ronnie. “You’re okay to drive, I hope?” I said. “We’re in Boulder City right now, but there’s a GPS in the car that’ll get you back to Vegas.”

  Ronnie nodded slowly, took the keys and shared a glance with Lisa. “How the hell did we get to Boulder City?” she murmured, and then shrugged it off to come forward and kiss me. “Whatever happened, thank you for saving us,” she said.

  “Yes. Thank you, Roger,” Lisa said. “Marty’s probably worried sick right now. Let’s drive fast, okay?” she said, taking Ronnie’s hand and practically dragging her toward the back door of the bar.

  When they went in, I turned to Agent Smith. “Am I right that you’re going to make a portal for me?”

  “You are correct,” she said as she picked up her pen. “Remember, don’t let Presley give you her pen. You have to take it from her, or this won’t work. Contact me when you’re both safe, and I’ll keep you updated on Henry Aaron. We will find him.” She wrote something on her clipboard, and a glowing shimmer appeared in the air in front of me.

  “So, I just walk through, right?” I said.

  Agent Smith nodded. “Good luck, Roger.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and stepped into the magic portal.

  38

  Going through the portal was like taking a big breath and being unable to let it out. I was completely disoriented for a good thirty seconds, which felt like a long time as my mind panicked and tried to rationalize that I’d taken a single step in the backlot of a bar that carried me to a sidewalk in front of an office building.

  When I finally managed to focus, I noticed the doors of the glass and chrome office building opening to let out a bunch of armed guards. Fantastic. Maybe Presley hadn’t gotten the chance to tell them I was coming.

  But now that I could actually use my pen, there was no problem.

  I grabbed my pen and the paper Agent Smith had given me and wrote All the guards in this building have decided to go to a strip club. Then I laughed out loud as the four armed men heading toward me suddenly changed direction and headed for a nearby parking lot, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

  “Have fun, guys,” I said under my breath as I headed for the entrance. “You’re welcome.”

  I walked inside, dodging another group of four guards headed out on my way. At least they looked happy. Even the security man behind the front desk was getting his coat, whistling as he shut things down like it was perfectly normal to leave in the middle of work and hit a strip club. I found the elevators, hit the up button, and waited a few minutes until the middle car opened with a soft chime.

  As I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor, an uneasy thought struck me. If no one knew that Presley was the pen holder, why would she need all these armed guards around?

  The only answer I could think of was that she didn’t. Which probably meant these guys worked for Henry.

  It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach the top floor. The doors opened onto a balcony overlooking a penthouse suite, with a large octagonal living room. There was a sunken seating area with a huge sectional sofa where Presley sat rigid in the center, head bowed and hair hanging over her face, next to a regrettably familiar figure.

  Henry must have gotten here just when Presley stopped talking to me.

  “Hello again, Roger,” Henry said, making sure I could see the gun he had pressed into his sister’s side. “I’ve just learned that my dear sister here neglected to tell me how she met you in Monte Carlo. You must’ve made quite an impression on her.” He gave me a sickening smile. “So, I did, too.”

  He pushed hard with the gun, making her cry out. She shuddered all over and lifted her head slowly. As her hair fell back from her face, horrified anger surged through me when I saw the bruises and swollen eye, the scraped temple, the split lip
.

  “You son of a bitch,” I managed. “Let me ask you something, Henry. Is beating on women the only way you get to feel like a man?”

  “You want to watch your tone, or she’s going to pay for it,” Henry said flatly. “Now, I want you to come down here and give me your pen.”

  No way that was going to happen. I moved slowly across the balcony, trying to decide the best way to handle this. “How did you see this ending, Henry?” I said, working to get him as off balance as possible while I figured things out. “You get my pen and Presley’s and then what? Rule the world?”

  “Not exactly. Once I have your pen, I don’t need hers,” he said with a cold sneer. “In fact, I’m going to make sure no one owns that pen. Then there’ll be no way to erase anything I do.”

  I flicked my arm to send my pen into my hand, thankful that Cami had thought ahead to install a purely mechanical back-up switch to release the pen, watching him to make sure his eyes stayed on me, not my hands. “So, you’re just going to kill her,” I said as I kept moving slowly. “In that case, what’s my incentive for doing what you say?”

  “You’ll do it, if you want the rest of your friends to live,” he said, shoving Presley with the gun again. “Better move a little faster, Roger. I’ve got an itchy trigger finger.”

  I brought my hands together and stopped at the edge of the shallow steps leading down to the living room. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” I said, bringing the tip of my pen to my palm and writing as quickly as possible. Henry has no gun. “You’re not the pen holder, she is,” I said. “And she’s not cooperating with you anymore.”

  “The hell she’s not! I—” Henry broke off suddenly and pulled his arm back to stare at his empty hand. “Son of a bitch!” he roared, raising his arm high as Presley cringed and tried to scramble back from him.

  I wrote on the back of my hand, Henry is tied up on the floor.

  Abruptly, Henry fell off the couch as ropes wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles.