Friction

by Dwayne Gill

  Despite it all, he could sense the elevator come to a stop, and Daniel scooped him up and carried him out. Rick had no idea what was next, but he wished the animal would just kill him and be done with it. Rick could only see out of one eye, barely well enough to recognize his apartment as he was carried through the door. Daniel didn’t say a word as he toted him through the living area and onto the balcony. Before Rick could process his predicament, he dangled up-side down, looking below him at the pavement. A group of men had the block cordoned off to keep pedestrians free of the area beneath him.

  It took the rest of Rick’s strength to crane his neck to look above him, and he saw Daniel holding his legs, smiling. “When one does wrong, one must do it thoroughly,” said the brute. Rick did not understand what Daniel was talking about, but the giant seemed happy with himself. “Compliments of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, asshole.”

  Rick felt the air on his face as he plummeted six stories down to the concrete.

  *

  October 6, 2028

  4:45 p.m. EST

  Outside Washington, D.C.

  Senator Theodore Simon sat in the back of his limo with his two armed guards, en route to an important meeting with the press and other members of the government. The U.S. Attorney General, Manning, had warned him of such a development, for several things around Washington were happening following the raid on a CIA facility in Maryland. Simon didn’t think much of the meeting; there were too many players in high positions for him to face any severe punishment for his actions, and Vinson knew that if Simon went down, he could bring the whole system down with him.

  It had all started with the troublesome CIA agent, Brandon Webb, who had gotten too close to Simon. Now it turned out the agent was alive, and though Simon doubted he had any hard evidence to bring to the table, the murmurs would be bad enough. Vinson should’ve killed the agent when he had the chance, but became too greedy for more information he was never able to extract. Now they were forced in a defensive position and would need to clean up the mess left behind by Vinson and his men.

  Simon was dressed in his best suit and had practiced his facial expressions all day to prepare for this gathering. He was no stranger to answering tough questions and felt confident in his ability to appease any challenges expressed by the nagging press.

  His only concern was Vinson and his lieutenants, for they seemed to do things out of their own desires, stemming from old grudges, and not necessarily in the best interest of others and the overall plan. If it came down to it, Simon wasn’t sure how much effort the terrorists would put into keeping him alive or out of hot water. Simon knew his place in the pecking order, fully aware that he was a minor set piece compared with others, even though the senator had risked everything for the cause. He’d even sacrificed his own son, allowing Vinson to turn and use him, to further illustrate his devotion.

  Simon believed if he could just hold on a bit longer, the new America wouldn’t be asking those difficult questions, and he’d have a share in the empire once it was established. Just lie low and do what you’re asked, he recalled Vinson saying, and that was exactly what Simon had done.

  After passing an unfamiliar landmark, Simon realized the driver must be taking a different route. He glanced out his window, trying to figure out where they were, but he didn’t recognize anything. “Where are we going?” he asked his two guards. One of them shrugged while the other tapped on the closed partition.

  When it lowered, Simon realized the bulletproof glass barrier that was supposed to be present was not, and a large man in a black jacket and sunglasses was aiming a pistol at him. The driver never looked away from the road as the assassin put a bullet in each of his guards’ heads. The two men went rigid and slumped forward while the killer smiled at Simon. “Make a move and you die,” he said.

  Simon sighed, bowed his head, and dared not make eye contact. The partition was left down while the driver continued toward their destination, which appeared to be remote. Simon had a sinking feeling he was being driven to the site of his death, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Ten grueling minutes later, the car stopped at an abandoned building. Another car waited for them, the occupants waiting outside their own vehicle. It was a man and woman, both dressed nicely, and they looked like news reporters. The man had a large video camera on a tripod, while the lady held a microphone.

  Oh, no, thought Simon, fearing his anticipated media softball questions had likely gotten harder. They want me to expose Vinson and his plot.

  Simon didn’t know any of the details of the grand scheme, but he possessed damning information that would incriminate a lot of important people. He was determined to hold his ground, no matter what, for Vinson was not a man to be crossed.

  The driver didn’t exit the limo, but the other man got out, opened Simon’s door, and pointed his gun, beckoning him to exit. The man had a very dangerous look about him, and Simon knew refusal to comply wasn’t an option. He slid out the door, roughly assisted by the assailant, and Simon was shoved toward a metal chair out in the open parking lot. He sat with his hands shaking, not knowing what would happen next.

  The woman looked at the assassin’s gun like she had never seen one, and the cameraman seemed uneasy as well, though neither looked like they were going anywhere.

  “What is this?” asked the woman.

  “Your interview,” said the man with the gun. “You won’t want to miss this.”

  *

  October 6, 2028

  5:00 p.m. EST

  Lafayette, Indiana

  Hart, Barkley, and Plumber were all glued to the tablet in front of them, eager to see what was coming. Hart fidgeted in his seat, twirling a pen in his hands. Barkley snapped her hand over his, stopping his hand from moving. “You okay, Lance?”

  Hart sighed. “Sorry.”

  “It’s too late to call this back,” said Plumber.

  “I know,” said Hart. He’d been the only one who wasn’t crazy about this approach, but it wasn’t because he didn’t see the utility of it. Hart was still feeling the aftershock of seeing Cane slit his friend and fellow agent’s throat. It wasn’t just the sudden brutality and instant death of a friend that had bothered him, but also the fact that they’d ventured so far from legality. Hart again found himself on the opposite side of what he’d always valued as an FBI agent, and what they had just helped facilitate only brought him further down the dark path.

  Hart had been teetering on the edge for a while, and he still was in limbo, if he was honest about it. On one hand, he could see the value of Cane’s approach and thought it was necessary if they planned on stopping Vinson. However, he feared their group wasn’t as easy to contrast with the marked men as he’d like. Hart was used to there being black and white, good versus evil, and with Cane and crew, that clear line between the two was ever blurred.

  Barkley and Plumber both seemed mostly unbothered by it, and Hart envied them. He still hoped that things with Vinson could be resolved through legal means, with the rest of the country at their side as they brought down the terrorist plot. Instead, right now it felt like they were making enemies on both sides and having to hide in the shadows from both Vinson and their own government. Today’s shady mission was only driving home that fact.

  “Here it goes,” said Barkley.

  On the tablet screen, Hart saw Senator Simon sitting in a chair, unbound, while Cane stood behind him. The assassin’s eyes looked darker than usual and were filled with a thirst for violence and vengeance. Simon looked scared, and Hart thought maybe he’d blast out denials and pleas for help, but Cane must’ve already coached him through the interview, for the senator was restraining himself.

  The show began instantly, with Cane leaning over Simon’s shoulder, speaking to the camera. “Recently, the marked men broadcasted an attempted execution that didn’t go as planned. They held military personnel captive, a CIA agent, FBI agents, including the current sitting FBI director, and even women and chil
dren.

  “Many who are watching this know what I speak of,” said Cane, grinning at the camera. “Senator Simon here knows, but he won’t say so. That’s okay. Today I’m not soliciting a confession, for that’s not what is needed.”

  Cane walked around and stood beside the seated senator. “There’s a man named Vinson out there. He’s the leader of a terrorist organization here in our great country. He and his five remaining lieutenants are conspiring with the Russian government and high-level members of our own, like Senator Simon, to execute an attack on U.S. soil. This attack will make 9/11 look tame in comparison.”

  Cane again walked behind the senator, who looked very uncomfortable and scared. “Vinson has been raising an army right under our noses, and it’s gone on for longer than you know. We have recently uncovered evidence of two doctors injecting ordinary, healthy men with a substance that erases their memories. These two doctors alone are responsible for the turning of over one thousand men, but I suspect there are hundreds of doctors out there that have been doing the same thing. All of you are familiar with the men they’ve created. You know them as the marked men.

  “If you’re a marked man seeing this, you already know me, and this message is not for you. This isn’t even for Vinson and his lieutenants.” Cane again stood beside Simon but now magically held a knife. “I’m issuing a warning to those who do not bear the mark but have otherwise cooperated with Vinson and the marked men. The former FBI director, Harvey Foster, was one of those who cooperated willingly, probably after being promised something in return.

  “However, most of you have instead been threatened by the terrorists and haven’t taken part from your own desire. The doctors injecting the men are examples of this.”

  Cane returned to his place behind Simon’s chair and had the knife resting above the senator’s right shoulder. “It’s time for everyone to choose a side. As I speak, there are high-ranking members of our government who are working with these terrorists, like Simon here.” Cane rapped the knife on the chair back, causing the senator to flinch. “There’s probably nothing to be said to conspirators like yourself, because you’re too deep now, and your only hope is the reward Vinson has promised you once he creates his new America. But I’ll warn you anyway: if you’re involved with the plot to hurt this country, and the people we love, there is no escape for you. Turn yourself in now and cooperate, and you’ll at least live to regret your actions. If not, refer to the fate of Harvey Foster, for I gave him this same opportunity.

  “For those who are being threatened, I still hold you responsible. You may reason that you’re just looking out for your own, which seems admirable, but in the process you’re destroying innocent lives and contributing to the terrorist plot. After today, if you cross me, I will treat you the same way I’d treat any other marked man.”

  Cane returned to the senator’s side. The man was visibly shaking. Hart guessed Simon had finally worked out who his captor was, if he hadn’t known before. Cane still held the knife, pointed haphazardly in Simon’s direction. “The marked men hid behind their masks during their failed execution because they’re still concealing their identity. This tells me we all still have hope, and we can thwart their plan if we expose them. As you can see, I’m not hiding. I was a government assassin for years and hid from the world, but not any longer.

  “Let’s not get confused here. I’m no hero. I’m not trying to be. In fact, I leave you today with the consequences of crossing me. If you’re afraid of the marked men, I’m here to give you something to be even more terrified of.”

  In an almost superhumanly quick motion, Cane lunged at Simon and slashed his throat, causing a bloody scene that Hart knew would be later censored, if it were ever seen at all. The camera shook, for the operator must’ve jumped himself, and the dangling microphone was swinging, its wielder likely looking away. Cane walked in front of Simon to conceal his death throes, but gurgling and coughing could be heard from behind him.

  “If you try to hurt anyone I love, I will come for you.”

  Cane knelt and put his face squarely in the middle of the frame. “My name is Cane, and I’m the monster you should be afraid of.”

  As the screen went black, Hart exhaled. “Wow,” was all he could say.

  Barkley had a big smile. “I wonder what Vinson thinks of that.”

  “If I were in bed with Vinson, I’d have a lot to think about tonight,” said Plumber. “I thought you said this guy didn’t like to be seen?” he asked Hart.

  “He doesn’t,” said Hart. “Or he didn’t.” What Cane had just done could prove to be more effective than anything Hart and Plumber could have, and with less exposure. That Cane, who once placed the value of his anonymity above all else, had just revealed himself in front of the world, gave Hart a newfound respect for the man. For all his brutality, he had a way of getting things done, and Hart couldn’t argue with the results. Once again, Hart had found himself on the wrong side of reason, but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

  “He’ll be a viral sensation,” said Barkley. Hart wondered just how many would see the broadcast, but then he realized how quickly things like this made its rounds. Because of the excessive violence, it wouldn’t last long in the mainstream, but it wouldn’t stop curious eyes from finding it everywhere on the Internet. “Simon execution” and “Cane” would likely become the most searched terms in the near future.

  “Well, Cane won’t be sneaking up on anyone from now on,” said Plumber.

  Yes, he will, thought Hart. In fact, he probably prefers they know who’s coming.

  *

  October 8, 2028

  12:00 a.m. EST

  Miami, Florida

  William watched the monitors in Lynks’s mobile center, which was parked in a dark, lonely place in the corner of the lot. Lynks was beside him, observing and smiling. “It feels so great to be doing something again,” he said. “I love my new station.”

  William had recommended Lynks retire his old van because it had been seen by a lot of the marked men who’d surely recognize it by now. After all, that same blunder led to Calvin being followed home. The new mobile center was larger, more comfortable, and a well-deserved gift for the man on whom their team relied so heavily.

  “You’re a wizard,” said William. “No wonder Cane can operate like a ghost.”

  Lynks smiled. “Trust me, he does fine on his own. You should see him improvise.”

  William was watching one monitor in particular; it was attached to April, who was dancing inside the club. “Keep moving, pal,” said William as he saw a passing gentleman taking interest. “Nothing to see here.”

  Lynks laughed. “Did I hear her blow a kiss?”

  “She likes to mess with me,” said William. “I see you’re keeping a close eye on Natalie.”

  Lynks clicked over from Natalie’s camera to Kristy’s. “Just straightening out some interference I was getting.”

  “Looked clear to me,” said William. Lynks looked at him briefly and turned back to the monitors. “It’s kind of obvious, man,” said William. “I think she likes you too.”

  Lynks looked like he was blushing. “She respects me. But that’s a long way from having feelings for me.”

  “Have you talked to her?” asked William. “Just tell her how you feel.”

  Lynks clicked the mouse harder, obviously flustered, but before he could reply, Calvin chimed in through their headsets. “Am I being punished?” he said. Lynks brought up his camera, which showed a large, flamboyant lady dancing seductively in front of him. She was giving him the look, like she wanted to take him home with her.

  They had disguised Calvin as a bouncer inside the club, his new look completed by a nice, snug suit, and a fake mustache. “We’re gonna need you to go ahead and take that one to the VIP room with you,” said William, giving Lynks a good laugh.

  “Hilarious,” said Calvin. “How am I supposed to keep an eye on the club with her prancing around me?”

  “You wante
d to do what the big boys did,” said William. “This is part of the gig. What would Cane and Daniel do?”

  “First off,” said Calvin. “Daniel couldn’t be here playing a bouncer. Not that he wouldn’t make a hell of a good one, but he’d stand out like a polar bear. Second, Cane would probably tranquilize her.”

  “Good points,” said William. “That’s why we chose you for the job, see? You’re much more qualified than those two.”

  In reality, neither Cane nor Daniel were even there, but were instead watching over the rest at the new hideout. Neither was excited about the situation, but they’d all agreed on this new configuration. The ones who’d been confined to the old mansion for so long wanted to be involved, and William had devised a safe way for them to do just that.

  Lynks had reached out to the other Miami club owners, who had all known their old acquaintance, Quinton Mason. Even in the entrepreneur’s absence, he’d still proved himself useful, for the club owners had agreed to let them use their clubs to get to the Russian officer, Vladimir Voronoff. Once the club owners established the connection between Mason’s murder and the Russian, they were all too happy to see their old peer avenged, granted Lynks could do so without a huge, bloody scene. Considering this last stipulation, this mission wasn’t well suited for Cane or Daniel, who had the honor of spending the day with Mercy, who William was sure had likely put makeup on the big man already.

  Natalie, Kristy, April, Calvin, Jordyn, Layla, and Zeke rounded out the rest of the crew inside, each having their own task to bring the mission to its fulfillment. To Taryn’s dismay, she could not tag along, for she was too young to enter the club. Zeke was limited because of his injuries, as was Lynks, but both had refused to sit this one out. Zeke was playing a spare bartender, which allowed him to restrict his movement, while they had confined Lynks to the mobile center where he belonged anyway.