One Last Con

by Rael Wissdorf

  “Bugger me!” one of the men groaned. “We’ll be raked through the coals for this!”

  The faint but growing sound of a siren echoed in the distance.

  “We’re dead,” his shorter companion cried in anguish.

  “No, it’s not our fault. Someone interfered with the job.”

  “An’ there’s no time to clean up this bloody mess either. Lids’ll be crawlin’ all over it”

  “Quit whinin’ like a bloomin’ frilly and grab her case for the boss. HQ will have to handle the rest of it.”

  Complying with his partner, the smaller man picked up the grey briefcase lying on the hood of the vehicle where it had landed during the impact, and checked the latches to make sure they were still secure. Satisfied, the pair turned away from the body of Laurina Hawks. Concealing their faces as they moved, the two men fled from the wreckage as the warble of the siren grew louder. Thanks to their training, their booted footfalls barely made a sound on the gritty wet sidewalk, as they melted into the growing fog.

  Drops of spittle flew into the air as an angry voice spoke into a hand communicator.

  “What do you mean you don’t have her? What happened?”

  Using every ounce of self control he possessed, the broad shouldered man calmed himself and listened patiently to his subordinate’s report. Breathing heavily, his nostrils flared as he took in each detail. As the moments passed, a vein grew more pronounced along the side of his skull, worming its way toward his furrowed brow. Still, the man in power managed to hold his sizable anger in check. When the caller finally finished his explanation, he waited silently, allowing the growing tension to build between them. He continued to wait until the sound of a nervous swallow could be heard over the comm.

  “Report to my office with the briefcase the moment you two return,” he ordered tightly.

  “Yes sir!” a relieved sigh escaped into the transmission.

  Click!

  The boss slammed a large hand against the massive oaken desk that dominated his office, sweeping everything except the office intercom toward the nearest wall. The piston in the heavy leather chair hissed in protest as he settled his weight onto it, while his broad shoulders slumped at the same time, giving the impression that his whole body was deflating. Certainly he felt that way. Who would have thought that a simple operation like this one could get so botched up? Each and every move was set up carefully to advance his future plans. All he needed was the Hawks bitch and everything would have gone like clockwork.

  Now everything has gone to shit!

  And what was this report about someone or some thing interfering with the operation? Did she have an accomplice? No. She always worked alone. His subordinate probably made up the story as an excuse for his bungling.

  “Incompetent fools! All they had to do was tranq her!” he roared into the empty air.

  The sound of scraping feet could be heard just outside the office door, but after hearing his outburst, no one would dare enter. Leaning forward, the man buried his head in his hands.

  “I was so close! The gods must delight in cursing me,” he sighed. A sudden buzzing from the intercom jolted him out of his dark thoughts. It was followed immediately by an urgent voice.

  “Sir, an unauthorized intrusion into the Interface appeared on our board just moments ago.”

  “Is it from the Sempai?” he asked, suddenly ramrod straight in his seat.

  “No sir,” the voice continued. “What is strange is that this incursion seems to have somehow originated from outside.”

  From outside? How could that be? That’s impossible.

  Unless…

  “Listen to me very carefully Doctor,” he said urgently. “It’s her! I don’t know how, but it’s got to be. Set up a perimeter around that sector immediately. Once it’s established, send in a retrieval unit. Assign it with someone who won’t screw it up this time!”

  “Consider it done sir!” the voice replied smartly, before breaking the link.

  A predatory smile slowly crawled across the broad man’s face. Perhaps the gods haven’t cursed him after all.

  The blare of a honking car horn followed by indeterminable shouting woke her with a start. Laurina blinked her eyes several times, adjusting them to the light before moving. Looking around slowly, she caught sight of a line of buildings facing each other, with several garbage cans and a dumpster brimming with refuse resting along their walls. The bricked structure closest to her displayed a rough metal door with the words, “service entrance” scrawled in white paint at the top. Gathering her strength, Laurina crawled over to it, and twisted herself into a sitting position, leaning against the cool red bricks. It was not daylight, but the light from the many streetlamps, store fronts and cars in the area lit up the night like the sun. The noise coming from the alley entrance was a cacophony of sound that bombarded her ears like salvos from a gunship. She felt groggy and was trying hard to regain her bearings. She looked down the other end of the alley and saw huge buildings looming over her, brightly lit from ground to apex. The slow blinking red lights at their tops gave a true indication of just how massive they were.

  This is definitely not London.

  Laurina climbed unsteadily to her feet and took a shaky step towards the brightly lit thoroughfare. A sudden realization made itself known, and Laurina feverishly touched her arms, and her chest, tracing the lines of her body searching for any signs of damage, but there were none.

  That bloomin’ car hit me straight on, I know it! Somehow I’m not dead or hurt. But what happened to it?

  Her heart fluttered anxiously as another thought entered her awareness.

  The briefcase!

  She searched every inch of the alley, including the dumpsters and every disgusting pile of debris nearby, desperately hoping to find the money she had acquired from Rickenbacker. The search was fruitless. The case of money had disappeared along with the car. Not even one banknote was left behind.

  Oh no! All my money’s gone! What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

  Realizing she couldn’t remain where she was for much longer, Laurina reassessed her physical condition before moving on. Other than the disorientation in her head, which was slowly passing away, she was a bit ruffled but otherwise no worse for wear. The redhead brushed a few smudges of dirt from her coat, and after taking several shaky steps, she emerged from the alley onto the main thoroughfare. She gasped involuntarily as she took in her surroundings.

  There were throngs of people everywhere. They filled both sidewalks; some moving quickly with purpose while others strolled at a more leisurely pace. She spotted families of tourists walking in small groups; cameras in hand, smartly dressed business men and women chatting on cell phones, and crisply uniformed delivery people emerging from panel trucks on both sides of the street carrying packages to their appointed destinations. A young man with spiked blonde hair wearing mismatched clothing adorned with chains strode past her, carrying a large boom-box on his shoulder. Punk rock at ear splitting decibels blared into the crowd, prompting looks of annoyance from those he passed.

  Occasionally Laurina would catch sight of street people shambling down the edge of the sidewalk, who seemed to travel in their own bubble. The crowd of passersby sidestepped around the homeless folk, paying them little attention as they attended to their own purposes. The bravest of these unfortunates held out their hands for any help that might be offered, but more often than not, they were ignored. One of them, an elderly woman in a tattered brown coat passed her by, muttering unintelligibly to herself with a glazed look in her eyes. In her wake the combined stench of urine and body odor emanating from her, nearly knocked Laurina over. Holding a free hand over her nose, the Brit watched as the woman disappeared into the steam that rose from one of the manhole covers that occasionally dotted the gritty sidewalk. Nearby, a yellow taxi screeched to a halt and honked loudly as another of the destitute blundered in front of it.

  “Hey ya homeless bastard! Get the fuck outta the r
oad!” a muscular black cab driver yelled at the shabby form as he passed, before accelerating forward in indignation.

  Laurina looked at the cab carefully as it took off and was startled when she realized it was driving on the wrong side of the street. In fact, all the cars were! In her confusion she noticed a beefy middle-aged man heading in her direction. He wore a yellow hard hat, a stained tee shirt partially covered by an orange safety vest, and a massive tool belt that straddled his ample belly and faded blue jeans. Drawing up her courage, she stepped in front of the construction worker, blocking his advance.

  “Beg your pardon.” Laurina asked softly. “Can you tell me where I am?”

  “Damn crack addict,” the man muttered in disgust.

  Scanning her figure he softened a bit.

  “Yer in Brooklyn lady,” he said in a distinctly New York accent.

  Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to her.

  “He-yah. Go get some food. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be hangin’ around these streets alone.”

  Laurina’s eyes widened with shock. “What? I’m where?”

  The man‘s face hardened again as if he had never seen her before.

  “Damn crack addict!” the man muttered in disgust. “Yer in Brooklyn lady.”

  His face softened and once again, reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to her.

  “He-yah. Go get some food. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be hangin’ around these streets alone.”

  Frozen in bewilderment, Laurina’s mouth moved but no words come out. Once again the construction worker spoke unbidden.

  “Damn crack addict!” the man said in disgust. “You’re in Brooklyn lady.”

  For the third time, the man pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to her.

  “He-yah. Go get some food. A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be hangin’ around these streets alone.”

  Instantly the man disappeared in front of her only to reappear a half block down the sidewalk, still saying the same line. Seconds later, the same yellow cab screeched on the road in ahead of her, and barely avoided the same homeless person she had seen earlier.

  “Hey, ya homeless bastard! Get the fuck outta the road!” the very same cab driver yelled before continuing on down the street with a screech of tires.

  Laurina’s jaw dropped in astonishment, and she noticed her right eye began to twitch uncontrollably.

  Bugger me! I must’ve taken a blow to the head or something…or I’m still dreaming. Either way, it’s like I’ve woken up as Alice in Wonderland!

  Obviously something was very wrong. There was no telling how much time had passed, but it became painfully clear to Laurina that she was definitely not in London, or at least not the London she knew. She ambled numbly down the sidewalk, occasionally bumping into people as she passed. Thankfully no one confronted her on her inattentiveness, choosing instead to scowl at her before moving on. Eventually the Brit wandered into a more open area, and in the distance she could see the tall iconic steel structure that loomed over the riverfront. She instantly recognized it from photos she’d seen in magazines. The Brooklyn Bridge!

  Alright. I’m in America. Or something in the like. But how the hell did I end up in Brooklyn of all places? The last thing I remember was that car… in London! What the hell is going on here?

  Thoughts raced through her mind like vapors in the wind. She could barely grasp them before they would disappear. Did she dream it all? No. This was no dream. Somehow she not only survived a head on collision with a vehicle, but someone or something had moved her from London to Brooklyn. But how? Why? So many questions! By some crazy twist of fate, she was now wandering the streets of New York alone, with nothing but thirty American dollars at her disposal.

  Trying to take stock of her situation, Laurina pulled her trench coat tighter around her body, trying as much to shield herself from madness as from the chill of the evening.

  Weary and frustrated, she sat on the street curb and started to weep. She was so confused. While attempting to make sense of things, she caught a whiff of prepared food floating in the light breeze, and her stomach began to rumble. How long had it been since she had last eaten? Looking to the left she saw a small silver building that looked like a railroad car with rounded edges squatting among the larger structures nearby. She recognized it from movies she had seen as an American diner. Remembering the bills folded up in her coat pocket she made a decision. Half-heartedly she stood up, wiped the tears from her face, walked across the street and stepped through the door of the diner into the coffee tinged warmth inside. A smattering of people sat in booths or at tables talking in muted tones to one another. She scanned the interior while at the same time avoiding eye contact. Thankfully, no one paid her much attention as she slipped into an empty booth in the back corner.

  “What’ll it be Miss?” asked a plump woman in a pink apron.

  She flipped open her pad to take her order.

  “Just coffee for now, thank you.” smiled the young redhead absently. “Oh, and a Danish.”

  The waitress snapped her pad closed and gave Laurina an irritated look before moving away. In seconds she produced a steaming hot cup of coffee and a plate holding a cheese Danish, and placed them on the table. The young woman wrapped her hands around the thick white mug taking in its comforting aroma. She took a small sip and felt the warmth of the dark liquid chase away the chill of the air outside. As she took a second sip, she noticed the large waitress still standing in front of her staring expectantly.

  “Sorry.” Laurina smiled sheepishly, as she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill from her meager stash of American money.

  The large woman grabbed it from her hand and turned to the cash register. She reappeared a moment later and unceremoniously dumped a pile of limp bills and change on the plastic tabletop, causing one of the coins to spin like a dervish. After the server left, the young Brit freed a spoon from the napkin it was wrapped in, poured a heap of sugar from the nearby glass shaker, and slowly stirred sweetness into the hot brew. Taking a sip, she smiled grimly and lost herself in the cup.

  Thank God for the simplicity of a good cup of coffee.

  She quickly devoured the flaky pastry while pondering her next move. As she was swallowing the last bite, the waitress returned with the same irritated look on her face. Producing a second cup of coffee and danish, she set them on the tabletop in front of the startled young woman, grabbed several bills from the table, and walked away.

  With a groan Laurina watched helplessly as the waitress came back with a third steaming cup along with another pastry, and grabbed more change from the table. She couldn’t help but feel lost. Her head hurt. Pressure pounded the back of her eyes and she put the coffee cup down to rub her temples. Moments later, the plump woman came back with another mug and plate in her hands and grabbed more money. She looked at the waitress and just shook her head.

  No, this isn’t Wonderland. This is insanity! It’s like I’ve blundered into the friggin’ Twilight Zone!

  A sudden thought struck her like a thunderbolt.

  Abel! If I’m here in New York, perhaps he made it as well. He might even be looking for me right now!

  Her heart was awash with hope as she quickly reached into the inner breast pocket of her coat. Feeling the emptiness there, hope suddenly changed to a feeling of anxiety, as she rummaged through the rest of her pockets. Finally anxiety gave way to dread as she came up empty handed.

  Her cell phone was missing!

  Bugger!

  As she contemplated this newest development, something tugged at her awareness, and out of the corner of her eye Laurina noticed a dark shape moving outside of her window. Sensing danger, she turned to see a black sedan pulling up in front of the diner. It looked like the same vehicle that slammed into her on the streets of London. She watched with dismay as both front doors opened in unison and two men in dark suits emerged. The rig
ht rear door opened as well and a third man stepped out onto the curb. They had the blank nondescript look that reeked of London’s Criminal Investigation Department.

  Oh great, just what I need.

  The three men turned and walked purposefully towards the diner. In a panic, Laurina slid out of her booth and quickly made her way to the woman’s restroom in the rear of the structure.

  Once inside, she quietly opened the door a crack and watched as the newcomers walked up to the counter. The man in the lead confronted the round waitress and spoke pointedly to her. The color seemed to drain out of the large woman’s face, and she pointed a hammy arm to the booth in the corner that she had vacated.

  Shit!

  Allowing the door to close behind her, the young Brit looked around the bathroom and spied a narrow window that faced a long alleyway. Fortunately it was not locked and opened easily. Like a cat she slid quickly out the narrow gap and landed lightly onto the concrete below. No sooner had she hit the ground when a man’s face appeared in the window. The face retreated a moment only to be replaced by a hand wielding a gun. She bolted down the dark alley dodging from side to side, as several shots rang out. Something like glass or plastic bit into the old building on her right side, throwing sharp fragments against the side of her head along with a splash of some type of liquid with a heavy medicinal tang. Looking down, she saw a smashed cylinder with a bent and broken tip lying on the littered ground like a dead mosquito.