by A W Wang
“You were never here. I don’t know you.”
“Why?”
He points at a chip in the center of the circuitry. “You see that? That communicates with the most secure networks in the country. This thing is higher than top secret.”
The words mean nothing. “I only want to find out what happened to my wife.”
He twists his head and gives a lopsided smile. “Well, good luck with that, I’m out.”
“Okay. Just give me what you have, and I’ll find out from whoever visited her that night.”
“You’re a fool. You think you can waltz right up to these people, and if you ask nicely, they’ll tell you?”
I nod with tight lips.
He backs up and flicks his finger at the metal door. “Get out.”
With my hands in a passive position, I advance toward him. “Not without that information.”
“Not a chance.”
As my shadow crosses his terrified eyes, he falls against the low cabinet, fumbling in the toolbox behind him.
“I’m not leaving until I get it,” I say calmly.
His right arm flies out, and a sharp pain erupts in my shoulder.
I gasp.
The long handle of a screwdriver sticks from under my left collarbone.
When I turn my shocked gaze to the smaller man, his eyes blaze with anger.
“I don’t care if you get yourself tossed in jail. Hell, I don’t care if you get yourself killed, but you aren’t ruining my life.”
His rage strikes exactly the wrong chord for my mood. My lips twist into a smirk, and fury rumbles over my rational thoughts.
I grab and whip the smaller man toward a metal frame full of hardware.
Man meets machine in an epic collision, and a mix of flesh, computers, and wires crash onto the concrete floor.
Before he can disentangle himself from the hardware, I follow and grab the first thing within reach, an old-style CRT monitor. I lift the heavy object over my head, wincing from the pain flaring in my shoulder. As the connecting wires stretch to their limits, I scream, “Tell me.”
His fingers twitch as he holds his hands up to protect himself. “You can never say I was involved. You can never mention my name. This is stuff you don’t want to mess with, and the type of people you don’t want to threaten.”
“Just give me the names, and you’ll never see me again.”
“Frederic Powers, he works for HHS in DC.” The terrified man waves his gloves, and an old printer rattles. When a sheet of paper spills out, he says, “Everything’s on there.”
Feeling woozy, I set down the monitor and walk to the printer. After I examine the information, I put the paper into my pocket. “Look, I’m sorry it came to this.”
Pete holds up the money chip. “Did you get this from them?”
“Yes.”
The fingernail-sized chit bounces off my chest. He shrieks, “It’s traceable and worthless.”
Not to me.
After grabbing the money from the floor, I say, “I want to pay you.”
“Pay me by getting out and keeping your word. We never met.”
I turn and head to the door, stepping over spilled equipment. After I slide the bolts back with my good arm and step outside, I rip out the screwdriver and toss it into the room.
Pete screams, “Tell that dickwad Jimmy we’re even!”
Without a backward glance, I march down the passage, trailing my finger on the bricks and rolling my shoulder from discomfort. Although this is the first time I’ve ever been physically attacked, let alone stabbed, I smile.
Somehow, the pain has shattered the emptiness inside me.
When my feet hit the sidewalk, I pause and take a chilly breath of the night air.
I’m ready to do what needs to be done.
Six
Locating Frederic Powers takes three months’ salary from the windfall as well as two weeks’ time. Over the course of another ten days, I stalk him down the long streets, traffic circles, and antiquated metro system of Washington, D.C. Despite the area being under martial law, the money and time expended—dodging aerial drones, armored cars, tense soldiers, and terrorist alerts—is well spent.
For a forty-eight-year-old man and government employee, Frederic Powers has many lavish tastes. Fancy restaurants close to his office are favored lunch stops. He enjoys racquetball in a trendy gym. His tailored suits are a cut above his pay grade. And most importantly, he grabs a room in an expensive hotel near the ancient Crystal City metro stop twice a week.
After a deep breath, I push through an opulent doorway and leave the bustling street, entering an ornate setting of soft wood tones and richly upholstered leather. Pleasant odors drift amid muted conversations and light clinks of tableware. Given the pricey menu and absence of lunch specials, the expensive French restaurant is surprisingly crowded.
Undeterred, I wend past tables and dark booths filled with well-dressed power players, conversing in hushed tones over sumptuous meals, and head to the rear. Seated against the back wall, Frederic Powers dines alone at a small table for two.
When I pull out the other chair and sit across from him, he looks up from his plate of beef medallions. “Who the hell are you?”
“30578A,” I say, resting my forearms on the table.
He replies with a shrug.
I slide the card across the white table linen.
A smirk crosses his face. “I was hoping you were taking some weird vacation.”
“So the money was traceable.”
“Yes,” he says, waving to a nearby booth.
I roll my recently healed shoulder, reveling in the dull pain. “I know what happens in those expensive Virginia hotels.”
He points at the broad front windows as a National Guard unit trots past. “In this environment, I could make you disappear.”
“Do I look like someone afraid of dying?”
His eyes narrow and focus on me.
“I can’t make you disappear, but I can make you wish you had,” I whisper before two burly men arrive and stand over me.
A tense moment passes before Frederic dismisses his security with a flick of his fingers. As I relax, he calls for a server. When a slender young woman dressed in a black tuxedo arrives, he says, “Get this man whatever he wants.”
I arch my eyebrow.
He snorts. “It’s not a last meal.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“What about a drink? You look like you could use one.”
“No, nothing,” I say to the server.
After she disappears, he leans into the backrest of the cushy chair and folds his arms, his biceps bulging under the stretched material. “What the hell do you want?”
I clasp my hands and rest my chin on my knuckles, taking a moment to study my unwilling host. His cheeks are fleshy and his jowl leaks over his too-tight collar, two of many nicks marring the tightly crafted veneer of perfection.
“Well?” he says impatiently.
“Information.”
With pursed lips, he grabs the card and taps it on the table.
“Forgot to search for this stupid thing because Valerie and I were arguing.”
Not caring for his mistress problems, I say, “I just want to find out what happened to my wife.”
His gaze wanders as he stuffs the card into a suit pocket. After deciding how much to divulge, he says, “Usually, I don’t go into the field, so I remember her. Liked her too. I can’t tell you much, except to say she loved you and wanted to protect you. She bargained to get you and your family out of those financial difficulties.”
Even though my stare never wavers, my eyes grow moist.
“So now you’ve gotten here, but to what end? You have the death certificate and buried her body,” he says with sincerity.
Instead of answering, I draw a deep breath. I have a goal, but not one that would be considered perfectly rational. “Have you ever been in love?”
His lips purse before he quiet
ly replies, “Once, a long time ago. The whole thing lost its luster pretty quickly. Your wife Mary was one of the good ones. You’re lucky to have been married to such a wonderful person. I envy you.”
“The best years of my life.” There’s more he’s not telling me, especially about what my wife did so the government would pay off a ton of medical bills and hand me two years of salary.
“Sorry I can’t be of more help,” Frederic says unapologetically and drains his glass.
Unsure of my next step, I release a long sigh. “I’ll have that drink now.”
Frederic turns to the server. “Another for me, and a cognac for this gentleman.”
While I wait, he returns to the plate of medallions. As he slowly chews, savoring the taste, I frown, trying to figure out how to get into his sympathies.
He points with his fork. “Sure you don’t want anything to eat?”
“I’m more partial to Italian than French.”
“They know how to cook,” he says with appreciation. “I was in Tuscany for a week. Incredible food.”
I smile. “It was more about the company.”
“Anniversary?”
“First date with Mary. We went to a nice Italian place.” I crack a smirk.
After a moment, Frederic bites on the expression. “What?”
“She was always the sloppiest eater.” I chuckle. “And she wore a white sweater and ordered spaghetti.”
The corners of his lips upturn into the faintest smile. “Bet you didn’t say a word.”
“No, although I did get her to order the porcini mushroom ravioli for our next couple of dates.”
“Less messy?”
I shake my head. “Not by much, but it was one of her quirks I fell in love with. It’s funny how the little things make all the difference.”
As the server sets our drinks down, Frederic nods, his eyes waxing nostalgic.
Not in the least bit thirsty, I hold up my wide-bottomed glass and let the sweet smell of cognac gather in my nose.
Frederic enjoys another bite of his decadent lunch and leans back. “You have to learn to enjoy the finer things.”
“Oh?”
“When I was young, I dreamed of changing the world.” A sigh leaves his lips. “I just didn’t think it would be in this way.”
I snort, replying, “I just wanted to be married and live happily ever after.”
He shrugs. “You’ve still got a few years.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look around you,” he says, glancing at the opulent decor. “All this will be gone before too much longer.”
“Isn’t the government getting things under control?”
“The relationship between a government and its people is a little like most marriages.”
“That’s a weird analogy.”
“Both start off with the noblest of intentions, and well, let’s just say reality sets in. Promises get made, expectations get raised, and then…”
“That’s why there are elections and divorce lawyers,” I add.
Frederic laughs then mops up reddish sauce with a piece of beef and savors another bite. As he speaks, he flicks his fork with the cadence of his words. “Four years. Four years, and all this will be gone.”
I tilt my head. “That’s an awfully pessimistic prediction.”
“Pessimistic?” He chuckles. “I’d call it pretty optimistic. For the last fifty years, politicians have made a lot of empty promises, and they can’t run things worth a damn. Now, a lot of debts aren’t serviceable, and everything’s coming due at the same time. Most experts think two or three years tops, but I know we can do a few tricks and hold on a little while longer.” He raises his glass. “So here’s to the high life for the next four years.”
While he drinks to the toast, I stay silent, unsure of where my problems stand in the grand scheme of his statements. “Aren’t you working on the solution?”
“This is like stopping a tsunami. And it’s not just our country. Nasty stuff is happening across the globe. The reckoning is coming, and nothing’s going to stop it.”
“That bad?”
He takes another gulp of his wine and dabs his lips with a white table napkin. “Even the program your wife is in is only supposed to help after everything falls apart.”
I sit up. “In?”
Frederic scowls.
As his posture straightens, I rub my shoulder, letting the throbbing pain wake me up.
“Yes, in,” he says with resignation.
My wife is alive!
“She’s alive, but how?”
“Don’t get too excited. You can’t see her or even interact with her. She was and still is dead to you.”
I set down my glass. “You didn’t answer the question.”
After Frederic spends a minute deciding not to have me disappeared, he says, “This is all classified at a level you wouldn’t believe. If you tell anyone, you’ll not only ruin your own life but their life too.”
“Fair enough. From your lips to my ears only.”
He pinches his chin, studying me, until he finally says, “Her consciousness has been downloaded into a hyper-quantum computer. It’s a program to train super-soldiers.”
“How’s that going to help here?”
“The goal is for them to return to this world.”
“So, I’ll get to see her again?”
“Probably not. It’s a harsh environment, and only the best of the best of the best will come back.”
I think of Mary, her frail body on the hospital bed, now in some weird cyber-simulation. “I want to volunteer for this program too.”
His eyes widen as surprise spills over his face. “You, my friend, are in a league of crazy by yourself.”
“If she’s there, she needs me. She isn’t a fighter.”
“Don’t toss your second chance away.”
“My second chance was with her.”
With a frown, Frederic raps his knuckles on the tablecloth, the softened sounds somehow cutting through the surrounding bustle.
Finally, he says, “I have a discretionary fund, and I’ll give you two extra years of salary. Just walk away.”
“I don’t want your money. I want to be with her.”
He slams his fork onto his plate, splattering drops of the deep red sauce on the white linen. Ignoring stares from the other diners, he leans his bulk forward. “Take the damn money.”
“I don’t even want anything for volunteering.”
“You don’t understand. We take people on the cusp of death or people with no other alternatives. You’re not being offered money to join the program. I’m offering you money not to join. Your wife was a special case. A very special case. And the program is very dangerous. There aren’t any guarantees that anyone will make it back.”
“In that case, I better make sure I’m there to help her.”
“Idiotic and uninformed decisions won’t help anyone.”
“Do we both have a chance of coming back?”
“Not a gambling one.”
I take a slow breath. “You said that, once, you were in love.”
Frederic shakes his head. “A long time ago.”
“Still, you know what it feels like to have to do anything to help a loved one.”
“Your wife made her decision for love too. Why throw that away?”
“Because I need to be with her.”
His fingers tense as he wipes droplets of sauce from his sleeves and struggles to control his temper. “You don’t even understand what you’re getting into.”
“I don’t care because I’d go to hell and back to be with her,” I reply, holding his angry stare.
He blinks and pulls his hand down his face in disgust. “This is something beyond love.”
Although I understand what he means, I’m not backing down. “Call it whatever you want. Do we have a deal?”
“If I say no, you’ll do something dumber than this, won’t you?”
I nod.
“Fine,” he says in an ominous tone and jabs his finger at my nose. “Get your affairs in order. We’ll see you in two nights at your home. Midnight. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
Seven
Seated in my darkened man cave, I tense when headlights flash across the curtained windows.
“Jasmine, what’s the time?”
“11:59 p.m.”
My midnight callers are right on schedule.
“Jasmine, off.”
“Shall I wake you up tomorrow?”
“No. Just keep up security until I call for you.”
Whenever that is…
Pink sparks fall over the desk as she waves her wand. After the final glows vanish, only a crease of streetlight seeping between the curtains breaks the darkness.
A minute later, the doorbell rings.
I trot into the foyer and, after flipping on the lights, open the door.
Frederic Powers and the two others who met with my wife stand under the awning. Frederic introduces them as Valerie the lawyer and Jonathon the scientist. Valerie carries a slim briefcase while Jonathon wears a white lab coat and clutches a square black box.
As I lead them down the hallway, Jonathon asks, “Where’s the subject?”
“You’re looking at him,” I reply.
The pudgy scientist stops, glancing at Frederic. “He’s kidding, right?”
Frederic draws a deep breath and glares at his companions. “No, this man is the subject, and no more dumb questions.” He glances at me. “There’s enough stupidity floating around already.”
Valerie’s lips twitch, but she says nothing. Jonathon rolls his eyes with small shakes of his head.
Although the dubious reactions are unsettling, I ask with confidence, “How do we do this?”
“Do you have someplace where you can lie flat?” Jonathon says.
“This way,” I say, motioning with my arm.
Their footsteps clomp behind me as I march to the end of the hallway and turn left toward the bedroom. After I enter and switch on the lights, I head to the bed and lie down. With Mary spending her final days in the cottage on this spot, it’s an appropriate place to begin my journey to follow her.
Frederic arrives last and quietly closes the door as if we’re in a funeral.