Friction

by Dwayne Gill

  Cane looked at Jesse and smiled. “I’m looking forward to this.”

  *

  September 30, 2028

  2:30 a.m. EST

  Miami, Florida

  Mary Swelling woke from a deep sleep, startled. She looked at the clock, sighed, and lay back down, flipping onto her side.

  She always had trouble falling asleep but usually slept through the night once she drifted off. It was the initial wave of haunting thoughts racing through her mind that proved problematic.

  Since Barkley’s visit weeks ago, Swelling had thought a lot about Cane and the missing children they’d saved. She’d kept Tina Rogers’ note by her bedside, reading it occasionally to remind herself of one of the rare victories she’d experienced while working missing children’s cases. She had photos stored on her phone with headlines of others she’d saved, and a few of them had been without Cane’s help.

  Sometimes, Swelling wished she could go back in time to treasure what an ally she had in Cane. She didn’t know at first who’d been intervening with her cases, but had suspicions because of a conversation with Quinton Mason. He’d offered to help her with tough cases, which she thought meant him simply putting his ear to the ground. Mason was a very influential figure in Miami, so it was plausible for him to be able to gather leads from sources she couldn’t access.

  However, as suspects got roughed up, she grew suspicious, although Mason denied involvement. Despite the increasing number of missing children turning up alive, she was uncomfortable about the way the cases were being solved. The whole ordeal came to a head when the mystery vigilante killed an entire sadistic family, and through Mason, Swelling finally met Cane.

  Because of her mixed feelings, composed mostly of guilt, she opted to retire early, and had often regretted it. On most nights, especially since her conversation with Barkley, she longed to return to the glory days of saving children, suspects be damned. Her life now was lonely and without purpose; all she had left was haunting thoughts of the children she hadn’t been able to save and the highlight reel of the few she had.

  Another sound. This time Swelling was certain she heard something. Her house was small, so the noise could’ve come from anywhere, and she figured it was probably a cat clawing at the back door, wanting in. Frustrated, knowing she’d have to battle a fresh wave of racing thoughts to fall sleep again, she climbed out of bed, threw on her robe, and walked to her bedroom door. When she opened it, two large men stood in her path, and before she could even let out a scream, one of them punched her right between the eyes.

  She was unconscious before she hit the floor.

  *

  September 30, 2028

  3:00 a.m. CST

  Chicago, Illinois

  Cane sat in front of Jesse holding a pair of tin snips, with Daniel standing behind him. Plastic wrap covered most of the bedroom floor, and they added extra layers below the bed that Jesse lay on.

  “Tin snips?” asked Daniel.

  Cane shrugged. Sometimes the most effective methods were also the most primitive.

  Jesse smiled, but it wasn’t the usual cocky one. He knew the prolonged discomfort he was about to face.

  “Here’s how this works,” said Cane. “I ask you a question, you give me an answer. If you lie or refuse to respond, I take a fingertip.” He clapped the snips together. “After I run out of fingers, I take the knuckles, and so on.” Cane leaned in. “I don’t ask twice.”

  Jesse didn’t acknowledge him, and while there was no fear in his eyes, Cane detected a sober humility.

  “What’s the name of the doctor?” asked Cane.

  “His name really is Brewer,” said Jesse. “I can’t remember his first name, but he’s in Chicago.”

  Cane called for Lynks. He took a minute to get there and was breathing hard when he reached the doorway. “Can you look for a Dr. Brewer in Chicago?” asked Cane.

  Lynks nodded. “I’ll be downstairs searching.”

  Cane turned back to Jesse. “Is that how you find your victims? Do you stake out clinics?”

  Jesse laughed. “It’s been an effective method,” he said. “But not the only one.”

  “How many men have you turned?” asked Cane.

  “That I don’t know,” said Jesse.

  “Hundreds? Thousands?”

  “A lot,” said Jesse. “The country is teeming with us.”

  “What’s your plan?” asked Cane.

  Jesse shook his head. “Plan, as in long-term?”

  “Don’t play games with me,” said Cane. “All you guys talk about is your master plan.”

  “Oh, there’s a big scheme,” said Jesse. “I don’t know it, though. I’m a recruit, remember?”

  Cane grabbed Jesse’s right pinky finger and snipped off the tip. Jesse hollered as it fell to the floor, blood oozing from the wound. There was something about losing fingers that bothered even the hardest of men.

  Jesse squirmed in pain and was sweating. “I don’t know,” he growled.

  “I don’t believe you,” said Cane. He grabbed Jesse’s ring finger and removed the tip, and this time the man screamed louder and kicked his legs. Blood was dripping onto the plastic below as Jesse put his head down and shook.

  Cane had never seen this weakness in one of the marked men, although he admittedly hadn’t interrogated a great number of them. Still, he sensed something different about Jesse. Maybe it’s because he’s so fresh of a turn.

  Jesse started sobbing, and Cane could see real tears falling from his cheeks. The beaten man looked up at him. “Help me,” he said.

  Cane didn’t know if this was another ruse or not, but if so, Jesse deserved an award. Cane knew a way to test him. “What’s your wife and kids’ names?”

  Without hesitation, Jesse answered. “Violet is my wife. Colt, Chet, and Chasity are my children.”

  The man was correct. Cane swallowed hard, wondering what to do next. Jesse saw his severed fingers and cried harder. “Please don’t kill me.”

  “Can you get me a wet rag and gauze?” Cane asked Daniel, who nodded and walked away.

  “I’m not gonna kill you,” said Cane. “You were taken by some men and given something to brainwash you.”

  Jesse looked confused, but the revelation seemed to calm him a little. “I’ve been having blackouts, and things are fuzzy,” he said. His eyes got big, and he asked, “Where’s my family?” He squirmed in his restraints.

  “Your family is fine,” said Cane. It was all he could do to offer comfort. The man had been through a terrible ordeal.

  “How do you know?” asked Jesse.

  “Because the cowards that took you don’t care about your family,” said Daniel, entering the room with a wet towel. “Your family probably thinks you’re dead or you ran away.”

  “I want to talk to them,” said Jesse. The concern in his eyes had grown; he looked on the verge of a breakdown.

  “Not right now,” said Cane. “You don’t want to draw attention to them, anyway.”

  Jesse nodded anxiously, seeing the logic in what Cane said. He took deep breaths and eventually calmed.

  “Is there anything you remember that might help us?” asked Cane.

  “I had the flu,” said Jesse. “I remember going to see my doctor.”

  “Do you remember what day it was?” asked Cane.

  “It was September third,” said Jesse. “The day after Chasity’s fourth birthday.” He sobbed again. “Am I going to die?”

  Something much worse than death awaits you, thought Cane as he considered Jesse’s future. They would have to kill him eventually, but even if they didn’t, his life and all his memories would be gone anyway.

  Cane didn’t tell him that. “All I can promise is that your family will be safe. I have no answers beyond that.”

  The man hung his head in defeat; even his missing fingertips couldn’t distract him from the emotional pain he was feeling.

  Cane cleaned his hand with the warm rag, wrapped it, and injected an ane
sthetic to give him relief. They’d have to tend to Jesse’s wounds more thoroughly, but for now, Cane would let the man rest.

  Cane walked downstairs and joined the others in the front den. “He’s holding on to his old memories,” said Cane. It was the first time they’d had the chance to witness the actual process of a man turning. “He still doesn’t have the marking. Maybe it takes a while. He’s been turned for three weeks or so.”

  “We get to see how this process unfolds,” said Lynks. “It could help us.”

  “Poor guy,” said Kristy. “I wish there was something we could do.”

  “Speaking of learning,” said Natalie, “what about Professor Duncan? He couldn’t tell us how the men were being brainwashed by examining their DNA, but now we have a living specimen.”

  “Can you be in charge of that?” asked Cane. “You can speak the professor’s language. See what you can find out.”

  “We’re just gonna leave him tied to the bed, sedated?” asked Taryn.

  “There’s no other choice right now,” said Cane.

  “Are we gonna kill him?” asked Jordyn. For obvious reasons, her mind was in a different place.

  The room grew quiet a moment. Cane sighed. “I don’t know yet,” he said. “We can’t put anyone here at risk, and we can’t put him in the panic room. Let’s take it a step at a time.”

  “I found Dr. Brewer,” said Lynks. “I have his address.”

  “I’m gonna pay him a visit,” said Cane.

  “They’re likely counting on you doing just that,” said Calvin.

  “Probably,” said Cane. “Vinson is using different tactics.”

  “How so?” asked Calvin.

  “They massacred over a hundred people, including Quinton Mason, at one of his nightclubs in Miami.”

  None besides Lynks knew Mason, but they’d heard about him. Lynks, like Cane, wasn’t as worried about their old acquaintance as much as the implications of his death. “Swelling,” said Lynks.

  “Hart is on it,” said Cane. “They haven’t been able to reach her.”

  “They’re trying to send us a message,” said Daniel.

  “They’re not sitting in the shadows anymore,” said Calvin. “Which means we need to find William.”

  “I left Bowman a message,” said Cane. “He’ll find William.”

  “Still no luck finding his family?” asked Daniel.

  “No,” said Lynks. “Someone did a great job of hiding them.”

  William had a wife and kid, and before they tried to extract him, they’d preferred to secure his loved ones. The marked men didn’t know William’s identity yet, but his family would be the first ones they’d target if they discovered who he was.

  “We all need sleep,” said Natalie.

  “I gave Jesse enough sedative to knock him out for hours,” said Cane. “I’ll go see Brewer in the morning.”

  “I should come with you,” said Daniel.

  “I need you here,” said Cane. “Don’t forget, you’re an escaped convict, and you don’t exactly blend into crowds. And with two marked men here, I don’t think it’s smart for us both to be gone.”

  Daniel growled. “The owl goes not into the nest of the lark.”

  The room was silent.

  “The Hunchback of Notre Dame,” said Daniel.

  “How fitting,” said Calvin.

  Networking

  September 30, 2028

  8:00 a.m. EST

  Miami, Florida

  Travis heard Mary Swelling waking up. He’d been waiting for hours, dozing off periodically while watching TV. Swelling’s eyes shot open with horror when she realized her predicament, and she grunted through her gag, trying to scream. Travis leaned his head back against the chair rest and smiled, soaking up her terror like a sponge.

  Vinson had given him access to an abandoned house in the area, only thirty minutes from where Swelling lived. The home belonged to one of the men they’d turned years ago, one whose family had left town.

  Travis let her struggle for another five minutes before walking over to the bed and looking down at her. Swelling couldn’t have looked any more frightened, and she couldn’t hold eye contact long with Travis. He was a large, imposing, scary-looking man.

  “Hello, Mary,” said Travis.

  Swelling tried to yell again, but the rag in her mouth muffled her words. They were in a rural area, so Travis wasn’t worried about her screams alerting anyone, but he didn’t feel like listening to the intolerable screeching and begging.

  “No one will hear you,” said Travis. “But I’m not removing the tape until you calm down.”

  As she continued to struggle, Travis fought the urge to reach down and snap her neck. Vinson had almost certainly chosen him to deal with Swelling because he was so intimidating, but hostages weren’t his area of expertise. Wreaking havoc and causing pain was where he excelled.

  Amos would’ve been perfect for this assignment, for he was smooth, well-spoken, and terrifying when he wanted to be. However, Amos was gone, having been humiliated and killed by the assassin, which forced the lieutenants to shift responsibilities around.

  To Travis, Swelling was a representation of Cane, a connector, and he wanted to rip her apart. However, she might give him something more valuable than her life. She might be the key to drawing Cane out of the shadows.

  They already knew Cane and Daniel were in Chicago, but they didn’t know where. Just last night, the two had raided a house, killing several of their men, and had abducted two others. Although Travis was across the country, he hoped Swelling would be their bait, and he needed her cooperation.

  As Travis looked down at her, squirming and hollering, he knew he’d be in it for the long haul. He’d scrolled through her phone earlier and seen the photos of articles featuring the missing children she’d saved and had even found a letter from a girl named Tina on her nightstand. What was even more interesting was that Tina had mentioned Cane in her letter to Swelling.

  Travis knew what made the ex-cop tick, and he’d do whatever it took to convince her to cooperate.

  “This is gonna get ugly, Mary,” he said.

  *

  September 30, 2028

  8:30 a.m. EST

  Virginia

  “You went inside and checked, right?” Hart asked his friend with the Miami-Dade Police Department, Antonio Gonzalez.

  “I did,” said Gonzalez. “There was no sign of a struggle, but the back door looked tampered with. It could have been an old occurrence, though.”

  Hart knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t blame Gonzalez for his skepticism. He didn’t know what Hart did.

  “What’s going on, Hart?” asked Gonzalez.

  “She’s a friend,” said Hart. “I haven’t been able to reach her.”

  This had been Gonzalez’s third trip to Swelling’s house, for he’d wanted to wait until daylight before forcing entry. “A car is in the driveway,” said Antonio, “but her purse is on the kitchen table.”

  “It’s okay,” said Hart. “I’ll try to get in touch with her family.”

  “I’ll come by again later,” said Antonio. “If she doesn’t turn up, I’ll file a missing person report.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” said Hart.

  Hart feared the worst and felt like he had good reason to. The progression of last night’s events would suggest the marked men had killed or taken Swelling.

  Barkley knocked on his hotel door, entered, and stood in the middle of the room. “Anything?”

  “Her car’s there, and so is her purse,” said Hart.

  Barkley sighed. “This isn’t good.” She sat on the bed and put her head in her hands.

  Hart knew Barkley wasn’t handling this well, especially not after what had happened with Helen, Kristy’s mother, a couple of weeks ago. After interviewing Helen and Kristy, Hart noticed they were being followed. When they returned to the Campbell house twenty minutes later, they found Helen dying from a gunshot to the neck. Kristy had been abducte
d by Amos, one of the marked lieutenants, adding to Helen’s agony as she died in Hart’s arms.

  Barkley looked like she had slept little the night before, likely because of worry and stress. Normally well-kept, her black, curly hair was tangled and in disarray. Hart didn’t look much better either, and he had an important appointment to keep.

  “I’m gonna shower,” said Hart.

  “Yeah, me too,” said Barkley. “I’ll meet you back here in twenty.”

  At nine o’clock, they were sitting at the desk in Hart’s room, ready to make a call.

  “Moment of truth,” said Barkley.

  They were about to find out where they stood with the FBI. Lindsey Flanagan had been the intermediary between them and the interim director, Clyde Plumber, and had arranged the conversation. Hart knew Plumber only by reputation as being a hard man, strict and by the book, and not one thought capable of manipulation by terrorists or foreign governments.

  The senate swore Plumber in quickly because of the unusual circumstances, for Todd Boles, the deputy director, was missing and presumed dead. Plumber was the right man for the job, considering the former director, Harvey Foster, had created a thunderstorm of controversy and embarrassment. They needed a man like Plumber to restore order.

  Hart took a deep breath as he dialed, and he and Barkley waited for his tablet screen to connect the video call. Lynks had assured them the device provided a secure line, just in case things went south.

  Plumber’s face appeared on screen, and he had the look of a man who was overwhelmed. He had white hair and was clean-shaven, but his eyes had bags underneath them. He’d only been in office for two weeks, but his time there appeared to have battered him. Hart could only imagine how taxing it was to try to unravel what had happened inside the bureau.

  “Hart, Barkley, nice to meet you,” said Plumber. There was no smile on his face.

  “Good morning, sir,” said Hart. “Thanks for speaking to us.”

  “I should be thanking you,” said Plumber. “We’ve been looking for the two of you for weeks.”

  That was the truth, Hart knew. He and Barkley had been highly sought after, for obvious reasons.