Ciphers

by Matt Rogers

  ‘I told you to leave.’

  ‘And I politely declined.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Did I say you have?’

  ‘You saw them.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Am I under arrest? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘I didn’t say a word.’

  ‘Don’t you have bigger things to worry about?’ she said. ‘Look what’s happening outside. It’s going to be chaos soon. You know that. I’m not an idiot. I can work out what’ll happen if there’s no power for more than a couple of days. You should be working on fixing that.’

  ‘Alexis,’ he said, and she went quiet. ‘You’re doing a whole lot of unnecessary talking.’

  ‘I just want you to leave.’

  ‘I just want you to explain.’

  ‘What does it matter? It’s my word against theirs. There’s two of them.’

  ‘Says who?’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘You have to uphold the law, right?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t.’

  She paused. ‘You don’t work for the government, do you? Who are you? Why’d you come in here?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘But you don’t care about the fact that there’s two men tied up in my bathroom?’

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘What exactly do you do?’

  ‘It’s complicated. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘They—’

  She only got one word into the speech. Then she dropped the Glock on the floor, planted herself down on the couch, and sobbed into her hands.

  He crossed the room and fetched the weapon off the carpet. Took it in his fresh right hand as he sat down beside her and put his elbows on his knees. He maintained a respectable distance, just as he’d been taught to do with all victims of trauma. Not too close. Not too far away. He kept his face warm and open.

  He said, ‘What happened?’

  ‘They’re drug addicts,’ she said. ‘I know they don’t look like it, because they’ve got money. They live down the hall and they work at my firm. I’ve been a paralegal there for two years. They’ve been disgusting the whole time. They don’t even pretend to hide the fact they stare at me. They’re so quiet when they’re sober, but when they do coke and ecstasy they get mean. Wall Street drugs, you know. Tonight they did a lot of both. Probably planning a night out on the town. Then the whole city went dark. And they got other ideas…’

  ‘They came here?’

  ‘They knocked on my door, asking if I was okay, after the lights went out. I was nice to them. I could see they were sweating bullets. I knew what was up. I invited them in for a coffee to try and keep things friendly. I was scared, I guess. The darkness spooked me. I wasn’t opposed to company.’

  ‘How far did they get?’

  ‘They didn’t try it immediately. I could almost see the gears in their heads whirring, you know? Like the common-sense part of their brain was telling them, “she knows you, you won’t get away with this, you’ll be held accountable for what happens.” But I guess when you do enough drugs you can’t hear that part of your brain anymore, so it didn’t matter to them. The guy with long hair forced me down on the couch and pinned me there. That’s when he really started sweating. But he was loving it. The other guy started stripping his clothes off. But…’

  She reached over Slater’s lap and lifted the far couch cushion. He peered into the shadowy space. There was the outline of what appeared to be a taser, resting there against the frame.

  He nodded his understanding.

  She lowered the cushion.

  ‘How’d it play out?’ he said.

  ‘I jabbed the guy holding me and he was done. I guess the drugs had heightened his senses, so it amplified the shock, too. He was foaming at the mouth before he hit the floor. Then the other guy opted to try and wrestle the taser away from me instead of running, so I jabbed him twice and he was out of commission, too. I tied them up pretty fast, and dragged them in there.’

  He glanced over his shoulder at the open bathroom door. Saw the two silhouettes squirming there on the tiles.

  He said, ‘Do you have combat training?’

  ‘No. I just didn’t want to get raped.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me when I walked in here?’

  ‘I tased them pretty bad. Gave them a couple of extra jolts after I already had them tied up, just to make sure they stayed placid while I worked out what to do. I guess that’s why I thought you were a cop through the keyhole. I was desperate for help. Then when you came in here and grabbed me…’

  ‘You thought it was happening again?’

  Alexis didn’t answer.

  She lowered her gaze to the floor, and did her best to stay calm.

  49

  Slater watched her closely. ‘Thank you for trusting me. I can’t imagine what was going through your head.’

  She looked at him. ‘I could tell you were a good man. It’s something I can just sense, right away. From the start I knew those two would be trouble, back when I first met them. It’s an instinctive thing.’

  ‘Still,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hit me in the head with a steel pipe.’

  ‘I was considering it.’

  ‘Then I’m glad I’m conscious.’

  She paused, then said, ‘I am, too.’

  He looked over his shoulder again and said, ‘I can’t deal with them right now. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay. They’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘You’re okay keeping them in here?’

  She shrugged. ‘I neutralised them and tied them up. It’s a whole lot easier to watch over them.’

  He said, ‘Are you sure you’ve never been trained in any of this?’

  ‘Is that so surprising?’

  ‘You handle yourself better in horrible situations than any civilian I’ve ever met.’

  ‘That’s what I am?’ she said, eyebrow raised. ‘A civilian? You sure it’s not because I’m a girl?’

  He stood up. ‘It might be easy to paint all men with the same brush after what happened to you, but that’s not me.’

  ‘I know. I’m only playing.’

  ‘One of the most capable government operatives I’ve ever met was a woman.’

  ‘You two work together?’

  Slater bit his lip. ‘We used to.’

  She seemed to understand all the implications of those three words, and the weight they carried. The aforementioned colleague was more than just a coworker to Slater, and also no longer around, which could only mean one thing in his line of work. Alexis said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  He made to respond, but his phone barked in his pocket.

  He slid it out and read: King.

  Said, ‘Would you excuse me one moment?’

  ‘You don’t have to excuse yourself to answer the phone.’

  He smiled. ‘Guess I’m old-fashioned.’

  Then he instantly switched demeanours, lifted the smartphone to his ear and said, ‘Glad to know you’re alive.’

  ‘You, too,’ King said.

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Closing in on the Bowery.’

  Slater dropped into a crouch, moved across the space and peeked over the lip of the big windows running the length of the loft. Sure, the windows were merely one part of a two-hundred-plus apartment complex, but he wasn’t about to take unnecessary risks. He observed the streets below from his vantage point.

  For the first time he got a decent look at the bank building across the intersection. It was an ancient granite behemoth, eight storeys tall and sporting Renaissance architecture. He saw the entrance portico towering over the rest of the sidewalk, two storeys tall in its own right and bordered by thick unadorned columns. The two visible sides of the building formed the outside of a “V,” with the portico resting at the tip of the triangle. The doors were made of heavy wood and seemed damn near impenetrable if there was any sort of reinforcement on the other si
de, which he knew there would be.

  The building loomed over the intersection, and now he saw almost every square inch of asphalt taken up by empty vehicles resting bumper-to-bumper. The traffic had ratcheted up a few notches when all the lights blinked out, and it had caused an overwhelming logjam in the middle of the intersection. With no traffic lights to follow and no way to feasibly escape, it mustn’t have taken long for drivers and passengers to give up entirely and leave their cars behind.

  That’d be an inconvenient obstacle if he had to make a run at the building.

  He said, ‘Where are you coming from?’

  ‘Almost at the end of Third,’ King said. ‘It’s about to merge onto the Bowery. I’ll cut across to Second.’

  ‘I can meet you there in five minutes,’ Slater said. ‘But be real careful. I think I turned this place into a war zone.’

  ‘I don’t hear any gunshots. I did before.’

  ‘Fighting’s over for now.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I chased the kid down Second. It wasn’t deliberate, but he sprinted right at the building in question. They blew his head off for it.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘They’ve got armoured mercs. And there’s two of Rico’s bodyguards left in the building I’m hiding out in. I’ll deal with them.’

  ‘They’re dangerous,’ King said. ‘They’re not your average security. That’s who was shooting at us in the alley.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘There’s something else…’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’ve got someone with me.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

  ‘Just give me a name—’

  ‘Meet me at the corner of Second and 4th. Hurry.’

  Then Slater heard a muffled grunt of protest from King’s supposed prisoner, and the pair wrestling — most likely King using his bodyweight to haul the man through the streets.

  The call ended on King’s side.

  50

  Slater swore and lowered the phone.

  He kept watching the street, but the Bowery was a ghost town. He knew there was an invisible fuse there in the darkness, and that the slightest movement on anyone’s end would light it up instantly. There’d be snipers scouring the shadows for signs of resistance, tucked away in vantage points amidst the thousands of windows facing the intersection. There’d be foot soldiers behind the bank building’s big wooden doors, clad in body armour, pumped up on Dexedrine, ready to defend its contents with their lives. There’d be reinforcements en route eventually, whether that be the NYPD or the feds or the CIA or the DSS. Violetta would do her job well, and she’d be able to scrounge together some assistance as soon as she got hold of the right people.

  But right now there was none of that.

  Just constant underlying tension.

  The calm before the storm.

  Slater turned around to find Alexis watching him like he was a lab experiment.

  Which, he guessed, he was.

  He said, ‘What?’

  ‘What do you do, exactly?’

  ‘Many things.’

  ‘Can’t tell me?’

  ‘I’d love to,’ he said. ‘Now’s not the time.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll let you out.’

  He shook his head. ‘Those guys I was running from are still in the building. Stay here. I’ll let myself out.’

  ‘What if they’re out there?’

  He slapped his shoulder. ‘I don’t need to run from them anymore.’

  She stared at his shoulder, then looked him in the eyes. She made to say something, but stopped herself short. Then she lowered her head and scoffed in disbelief.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  ‘You’re… not what I expected a government operative to be.’

  ‘What did you expect?’

  ‘I assume you’ve killed people.’

  ‘That’s an intrusive question,’ he said. ‘We’ve only just met.’

  ‘I want an answer.’

  He paused. Thought about the two men tied up in the bathroom, and the way she’d handled all this chaos, and the poise she’d shown. He said, ‘Yeah. I have.’

  She didn’t respond.

  He said, ‘How’s that make you feel?’

  ‘That’s the strangest part of all,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t change much.’

  ‘Much of what?’

  She didn’t respond to that, either.

  He moved away from the window and came within a few feet of her, maintaining a respectable distance. ‘Are you still basing all of this off your first impression of me?’

  ‘Like I said, I could tell you weren’t a bad person.’

  ‘You shouldn’t jump to conclusions so quickly. I could be anyone.’

  ‘But you’re not.’

  ‘I’ve killed people. That doesn’t deter you?’

  ‘Should it?’

  ‘What are we getting at here?’

  She looked at him for a long five count, then seemed to rein herself in. ‘You need to go.’

  He nodded. ‘I do. Thank you for all your help.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  He crossed the loft, refusing to look back in case he let his penchant for the opposite sex distract him even more than it already had. He made it down the hallway and moved quieter, masking his footsteps, listening for any sign of commotion outside. He placed one hand on the knob and turned it and let the door whisper open. A quick glance in either direction down the corridor revealed it to be empty.

  He leant back into the apartment and shut the door.

  Turned around to find Alexis there, only a few feet away, still watching him.

  He said, ‘I know you’ve had bad experiences with guys judging you solely off your looks. I’m guessing, in this city, it’s even worse than elsewhere.’

  She nodded.

  He said, ‘I’m no saint. I do the same when I’m out on the town. I can’t help myself. I’m superficial when I want to be, I guess.’

  Silence.

  ‘But not here,’ he said. ‘Not now. I want to see you again. Not because of your looks. Because of your actions.’

  ‘What actions?’

  ‘The way you took matters into your own hands,’ he said. ‘I like that. A lot.’

  She seemed to be torn between two options, rocking back and forth on the spot, the common-sense part of her brain listing all sorts of obvious downsides to committing to something so brash with a man she barely knew who’d stormed into her apartment in the midst of a blackout and practically taken her hostage.

  He knew the common-sense part of her brain would win.

  And for good reason.

  So he started to turn away.

  Put his hand back on the doorknob.

  But suddenly she was close, too close, and he turned back and she pressed his back to the door and cupped his face between her palms and stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him, long and slow.

  Only for a few seconds.

  Then she pulled away and stepped back and said, ‘I’d like that, too. It was nice to meet you.’

  He didn’t know what to say.

  She said, ‘Make sure you don’t die tonight.’

  ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

  His head spinning, both with confusion and disbelief, he readied the Glock and slipped out of apartment 505, ruminating on the improbable directions life can take.

  51

  You could hear a pin drop.

  Everyone cooped up in their apartments were keeping quiet, all the way down the hallway. There was no excited murmuring from behind closed doors, no muffled conversation… no noise whatsoever. Slater imagined couples and single city workers sitting on their sofas in the dark, maybe surrounded by faint candlelight, but no more than that. Mulling over what they might do if the power stayed out. Wondering how long it would take until they had to take to the streets, actively searching for resources. This was Manhattan, after all.
People were busy. Most ate out, or ordered meal delivery. What little supplies they had in their pantries wouldn’t last long.

  And then what?

  The longer the darkness lasted, the more sobering reality became.

  Slater knew he couldn’t worry about that. If he did, the pressure would mount. The key to remaining calm was refusing to think about the consequences of failure, but the higher the stakes the harder that became. For now all he could do was move forward.

  And reunite with King.

  As he set off for the stairwell, he realised how quickly he’d acclimated to working alongside his de facto brother. He’d spent his whole career as a solo operative, but the truth was they functioned better as a duo. Black Force, his old clandestine government unit, should have come to that realisation sooner than they did. The entire division was broken, disbanded and dissolved before the upper echelon put two and two together and invited King and Slater back to work as a team.

  Now, he felt strangely exposed on his own.

  How quickly the comfort of isolation had worn off…

  He reached the stairwell, put a hand out, and pushed the door open.

  Stepped into the pitch blackness, one foot at a time, with his Glock raised and ready to fire.

  He didn’t get the chance.

  The darkness morphed, from nothingness to a sudden flurry of movement, and he squeezed the trigger twice and put both rounds through the forehead of the sicario lunging at him. The man’s own weapon was outstretched, and Slater threw himself sideways as he realised the barrel had lined up with his face. He needn’t have bothered — the body sailed on past, splaying forward, but now he was out of position.

  He righted himself, and caught the shadows morphing again, and suddenly the final man barrelled out of the darkness in a desperate final-effort lunge. Slater saw both the guy’s hands splayed and realised he didn’t have a weapon.

  He ran out of bullets.

  The thought didn’t reassure him. Before he could take advantage of it, the guy had his hands interlocked behind the small of Slater’s back. The two of them were roughly the same size and weight, and when that’s the case it doesn’t really matter how strong either party is. Wrestling technique exists for a reason, and that reason is that it works. So the sicario completed the takedown, demonstrating strangely All-American abilities for a Mexican, and drove Slater down to the carpeted floor.