Rogues of Overwatch

by Dustin Martin

  Chapter 10- Clever Little Sneaks

  The holding cells were on the second floor, not far from the pool and behind a locked janitor’s closet. Jando knocked on the door and Sylvia opened it, a folder in hand. They stepped around piles of cleaning supplies, mops, and brooms, and through an opening in the side wall. A metal shelf slid into place behind them as the wall closed. They stood in front of a guard’s post with Arthur, Aidan, Morella, and Gary, the last who tucked a folder like Sylvia’s under his arm. A security guard rose from his semicircle desk outfitted with camera monitors and punched in a code for another door to their left.

  “She hasn’t spoken since you brought her in,” the guard said, opening the door. He let them pass through first, and the door closed behind him with a harsh hiss and a chunk! “Just sits there. Every now and then she walks around the room.”

  The hall they walked through was constructed of coarse gray walls, like the guard’s post, and a single row of lamps hanging from the ceiling. The holding cell doors were thick with a small, rectangular window. Each had a speaker to their right side and a pull-out tray to transfer items between those in the hall and those in the cell on the left. Only a couple were occupied by prisoners reading or sleeping. At the fifth door on the right, the last one, the party halted and the guard pointed inside. “There she is,” he said.

  Lydia peeked in. Heather no longer wore the filter on her face. She had changed into a white jumpsuit, but retained her scarf, which was still a little dirty and worn. Her hair draped over her clean face, hiding the scar. Her left leg was bandaged and stretched out on her bed.

  Sylvia pressed the ON button on the speaker. “Heather?” The woman raised her eyes to the door. “Can you hear me?”

  Heather took a deep breath. “Don’t bunch up all at once to look. Not like I’m going anywhere.”

  “Before we come in, put these on.” Sylvia nodded to Morella. He pulled out the tray and stuffed a new type of filter and two sets of handcuffs into it. Then he pushed the tray closed. Heather slowly stood and took the items, attaching the filter and then chaining her hands and feet. When she finished, she shuffled to her bed in the corner of the white room. Beside that was a shiny sink, a mirror, and a toilet, all stocked with basic toiletries.

  Sylvia nodded to Arthur and the guard. The guard took a key ring from his belt and unlocked the door. Sylvia and Morella went in, and the guard shut the door behind them, locking it. He tipped his cap to Arthur and gave him the keys.“Give a holler when you’re finished,” the guard said.

  “We will. Thanks.”

  As the guard left, Lydia, Aidan, and Jando grouped against the window outside the door and watched the interview. Morella remained standing just inside the room, arms crossed and at full attention. Sylvia pulled up the single chair in the room beside the bed and faced Heather. She opened her folder, browsing its contents for a few moments. Then she pulled a recorder out of her pocket and set it on the nightstand next to the bed.

  “Will you state your name for the record?” she asked. The noise was a little muffled through the window, but if Lydia strained, she could hear them well enough. Heather stayed silent. “That new filter will let you speak. Name?” Heather exhaled her gas in response, her neck deflating. “Prisoner’s name is Heather Stanson. Do you have any questions before we start?”

  “Yes,” Heather said, the filter letting her voice through clear, if a little dampened. “Can we cut the ancillary nonsense and just get to the point? You want to know about the people that tried to kill us.”

  “Among other things,” Sylvia said. “One we know is Markus Bell.” Heather cut her eyes at her. “What about the other two? Are they former associates of yours? Or Finster’s?” Heather looked at the window. “Maybe Rooke’s?”

  Heather gave a forced laugh. “Rooke. Right.”

  “So you know who they are?” Heather tried to kick one leg over the other, but the handcuffs yanked her foot back. “Have you worked with them before?” No answer. Sylvia glanced at Lydia and flipped through a few pages. “Let’s talk about something else. How about your bank account? After the FBI froze your assets, they found a lot of payments from Rooke.”

  “I thought you would’ve figured out I was working for him,” Heather said. “Or do you need me to state that for the record, too?”

  “No, that’s alright. But the FBI found something else in Rooke’s account. It turns out that Rooke Pharmaceuticals wasn’t doing as well as the official reports claimed. For years, all his profits were poured into creating the SN91 and researching a cure for his father. Yet Rooke seemed to be receiving payments to fund these efforts and keep his company afloat. Some generous donations from the CEO of Picard Aeronautics Research and the board of Xavier Construction, Inc. Now why do they care so much about a pharmaceutical company? What’s the connection?” She paused and Heather made no comment. “We didn’t find any link beyond that, and the CEO and board refused to comment, other than that they were trying to help save the company. Good Samaritans indeed.”

  “But…,” Sylvia said, drawing out the word and smiling, “the FBI did find a private communication line in Rooke’s office. When they traced the calls from there, they wound up at a small bed and breakfast in Massachusetts. All the FBI discovered,” she said, peering at her file, “was ‘waffles to die for, and some of the best coffee in the world.’”

  “What’s your point?” Heather asked.

  “That the bed and breakfast business isn’t so cutthroat that they want weaponized diseases. Someone covered their tracks well and severed all ties and communication with Rooke. That someone was funding Rooke, and maybe you as well, and letting Rooke serve as a middleman to further distance himself or herself from everything. Or this person was higher up than Rooke. His boss and your real boss, too.” Sylvia leaned in. “Before he died, Rooke claimed someone else ordered you and Finster to kidnap Arnold and Debra Penner. It’s true, isn’t it?”

  The solemn expression on Heather’s face confirmed the claim. Lydia’s breath caught in her throat. So Rooke hadn’t lied. Someone else was responsible for her father’s death. Heather refused to speak on the matter. “Is that who those BEPs were working for? Were they trying to rescue you, or are you someone they need to cover up, too?” At this Heather grumbled. “What do you know about these people?” Sylvia asked. “Are they associated with the Brigade?”

  “The Rogue BEP Brigade,” Heather said, tossing her head from side to side. “I really hate that stupid name. You’re driven to chase after them, aren’t you? You, Arthur, and Kirk, and look how he ended up.” Sylvia bristled and focused on her folder. “All I have to say is that I have no associates.”

  “Then to confirm, they weren’t trying to rescue you?”

  “I doubt it,” Heather said. “They were trying to kill us all before we came here.”

  Sylvia didn’t seem convinced. “Why’s that? Who do they work for? What do you know?” Heather leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms as best she could. “You have to help us if you want us to help you. If these people are after you, we can protect you. And we’ll show leniency.”

  “Too bad I can’t say the same for my former employer,” Heather said. “Keep your deals and offers. They’re no use. The less I talk, the better my chances. And the sooner you give up your chase, the better yours will be. But if you want to chase your boyfriend to the grave, who am I to stop you?” Sylvia tightened her fists. “I could make it easier for you. Take this filter off and you can die the same way. Then someone can find a match and light you on fire.”

  Sylvia jumped up, her fist raised halfway. Then she dropped it and closed her folder. “Wait,” Heather said slowly. Her jaw dropped and she smiled. “He finally popped the question, didn’t he? Shortly before he died, too, huh? And you said yes. I’m right, aren’t I?” Sylvia snatched up the recorder and headed to the door.

  “Open it,” she mouthed to Arthur through the door’s window. Frustrated, she cleared her throat and motioned an
unlocking movement with her hand. “Open it,” she said louder, her voice croaking. He unlocked it and Sylvia left the room. Heather sighed and lay down on her bed. The woman’s glum expression told Lydia that she was appeared to be disappointed with the interview. Lydia had the urge to race in and deck Heather, one time. Real quick. One good hit and break her jaw.

  In the hall, Arthur asked Sylvia, “Are you okay?”

  “Fine. I’m fine,” Sylvia said. “We’re done here.” She stepped aside for Gary. “You’re up. I need to finish the report of our trip and then I’ll file this.” She waved the recorder and walked down the hall.

  Lydia was incensed for Sylvia and for herself. She wanted to rush in there and demand to know who this secret higher authority was. This person was still out there, possibly targeting Lydia herself and those close to her. The BEP Division had to find and stop this person right away. She moved to grab the handle of the door, but Arthur held her back. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “In,” she said. “I want to know who this person is.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Arthur said. “Leave the interrogation to Sylvia. She has more experience and training with it.”

  Gary entered instead and took Sylvia’s chair, opening his own folder and beginning with, “How are you feeling today?” Heather gave him a frustrated look and turned her back to him. “I understand you’re not in the best mood. That’s perfectly fine.”

  Arthur ushered the teenagers out, leaving Morella to monitor Gary’s session, and handing the key back to the guard. Once they were out of the janitor’s closet, Arthur said, “I’ll call you when we interrogate her again. Otherwise, don’t enter this room.” He studied each in turn, waiting for a nod from them. When he had those, he escorted them to the elevator and left them on the first floor.

  “So what’s the plan?” Jando asked when they were alone.

  “Excuse me?” Lydia said.

  “We know you,” Aidan said. “You’re already planning to sneak in there and grill Heather.”

  “How do you want to do it?” Jando wrapped an arm around her waist, squeezing her hip and causing her to disappear. “The usual?”

  “How about not so low?” she said.

  “Can do.” His hand trailed up her ribs, going higher and higher until she grabbed his fingers and pinched them. “Okay, okay. Got it. Work before pleasure.”

  Aidan snorted. “Pleasure. Right.”

  Lydia released Jando’s fingers. He rubbed them and held open the Center’s exit doors. “Yeah, pleasure. Have to keep up the reputation. I aim to please.”

  “Then I think your sights are misaligned,” Lydia said. Aidan high-fived her. She pulled Jando back before he walked off in a huff. “I’ll let you two know when I think of something. We’ll have to watch the place somehow. Figure out a good time to go in.”

  “Okay,” Aidan said. “Although, there’s no need to rush. Let’s do this carefully for once and not get caught. Whoever this person is, I doubt they’ll do anything soon. That would draw a lot of attention to them.”

  He had a point. This person had heat on them already from trying to kill them. Anything else would bring them out into the light, put pressure on them. And Golden Springs’s police had become more vigilant, according to one of Dariela’s past letters.

  Aidan walked ahead of them to the dormitories. “I’ll see you two later. Have to finish my letter.”

  Lydia shoved down any of her feelings about that letter and turned to Jando. “I’ll help,” he said. “For a kiss.”

  “How about a thank you?” she said.

  “A kiss, no tongue.”

  “My gratitude.”

  “Peck on the lips.”

  She sighed. “Friendly peck on the corner of your lips. After we do this.” She raised a finger as he opened his mouth. “Final offer.”

  He deflated, bounced around the idea, and agreed. “Fine.”

  She separated from Jando at the dormitory staircase. Instead of heading to her room, however, she kept climbing the stairs to one of the higher floors. The agents and Cave staff lived there, sometimes crammed in between new BEPs, although Lydia had heard of plans to expand the dormitory building and create another floor for overflow.

  Treading lightly down the hall, Lydia wandered to Sylvia’s room and knocked. The television was on, but nobody answered. She tried the door handle and it opened. She entered and found Sylvia sitting on her bed, twisting her engagement ring on her finger. It had been months since Lydia had seen it, and the clear diamond on it hadn’t dulled in the slightest.

  When Lydia entered, Sylvia stood up, shocked, and ripped the ring off her finger. “I said to give me a minute!” She threw the ring into its box in her top dresser drawer and slammed the drawer shut. Then she shut off the television and shoved Lydia out, barring her from coming back in. “What do you want?” she asked, shutting the door for a moment, but not before Lydia saw her wipe her eyes on her sleeve and sniff hard.

  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Lydia said.

  “Yeah. I told everyone, I’m fine,” she said, opening the door. She sighed and offered a small smile. “Thank you.”

  “She’s upset that she got caught. That’s all. Don’t let her rile you up.” Lydia chastised herself. You’re one to talk.

  “I know,” Sylvia said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like some time to myself.”

  “Sure.” Sylvia closed the door, and Lydia walked away, to plan on scoping out the holding cells.

  * * *