The Euclidian: Alien Hitman

by Jay Cannon

  Adar straightened and reached for his UCD in an attempt to contact Wylyy, but not before the police engaged him. Five police officers activated their Tasers, stunning Adar and sending him to the ground, convulsing.

  “Cuff him!” shouted McKee. “Hands and feet. And cover his head with a bag. I don’t want to take any chances with this one.”

  “Look, Dholi,” said Daloi. “They got that Ossie bastard. Now we just need to set our other plan in motion to truly be free.”

  ***

  Two other people had watched the scene in Times Square unfold.

  “Sheila, do you recognize that guy Jesse’s talking to?” asked Sharon.

  “Isn’t that the guy from the video, who killed Luigi?” Sheila queried her cousin, squinting. “So Jesse was telling the truth. He must be pretty badass if all those cops had to tase him like that. It looks like that problem is taken care of now.”

  “Let’s get out of here, cousin. We don’t want to get caught up in this.” Sheila grabbed Sharon by the arm and pulled her away to avoid being spotted by the police.

  ***

  When the bag came off of Adar’s head, he found himself bound to a bed in an interrogation room guarded by two officers and naked except for his underpants. Bright lights shone overhead and a large mirror covered one of the walls. McKee and Peters stood over him. I could probably pop loose from these straps and take out these clowns, but I better play this cool. “Hello, officers. You want to explain why you have me in custody?”

  “Why don’t we start with names? I’m Captain Ron McKee. This is Sergeant Calvin Peters. And you are–”

  “Just call me Adar.”

  “Where are you from, Adar?” asked McKee, in a stoic voice.

  “I’m from Chicago, and I’m here on business,” Adar responded calmly.

  “I’d like to believe you, but you don’t look like anybody I ever met from Chicago.”

  “So you arrested me because you are uncomfortable with my birth defects?” Adar asked shrewdly.

  “Roll the video, guys,” McKee yelled at the mirror, behind which a roomful of officers crowded together looking at the alien. “We got this from Luigi’s place. You are doing some pretty incredible things here, for a businessman from Chicago. You want to explain what this weapon does?” McKee asked, lifting Adar’s photon rifle up for him to see.

  “That looks like a toy to me. I wouldn’t mind buying one for my son to play with.” Adar smirked.

  “This toy, as you call it, took out a couple of Luigi’s guys, as you can see in the video.” The Captain attempted to direct the alien’s attention toward the TV using his index finger.

  “It’s amazing what people can do with video these days. That is not me. I do not recall even being in that place.” Adar repeated responses he had learned in lessons about evading authorities.

  “So you are telling me that there is another alien wandering around Manhattan wearing dark shades, gloves, and a long black coat?” McKee asked, incredulity making his voice rise.

  “What is this device?” Mckee continued, showing Adar his UCD.

  “Just a mobile phone with built-in GPS. It is easy to get lost in this big city, and I need to keep in constant contact with my family,” Adar said, with obvious sarcasm.

  “So there are other aliens here? Is Ahmed an alien, too?” McKee thought that if he kept the alien talking, he would eventually slip up.

  “Who is Ahmed?” Adar asked, turning away from the captain and looking at the mirror, wondering who was behind it.

  “The person in the video with you who shot the man at point-blank range. By the way, he’s in the room next door. Calvin, bring him in here. We have federal agents coming to pick you up soon. They will probably do more than just interrogate you.”

  McKee leaned in close to Adar, so he could speak directly into his ear. “They will probably dissect you to see what makes you tick.”

  “I do not tick. I am just an innocent man being falsely profiled due to the unfortunate circumstances of my birth,” Adar declared, turning to look directly at the captain.

  “Oh, that’s just precious. You seem to know a lot about our culture for an alien. Oh look, there’s Ahmed now. Welcome, Ahmed. Would you like to shed some light on what we are looking at here?” McKee said, pointing at Adar.

  “Looks like a guy with a far-out body tattoo,” said Ahmed.

  “When did you meet him?” the captain asked, his expression intense.

  “Just now when you opened the door,” Ahmed answered, looking confused.

  “Would it be possible to go to the bathroom, at all?” asked Adar.

  “I would like to go, myself,” said Ahmed.

  “Tell me something meaningful, and I’ll give you two a bathroom break,” said McKee.

  “I come from a planet far, far away, where people do not smell nearly as bad as you do,” said Adar.

  Laughter could be heard from the other side of the mirror. “Shut up in there. This is not a comedy show. Calvin, take them to the restroom. I want two men on each of them and their hands and feet cuffed at all times.” The captain stood to the side and crossed his arms as his men escorted the alien and Ahmed out of the interrogation room.

  “How are we supposed to wipe our butts?” Adar asked.

  “Get creative. I want them right back here as soon as they are finished,” McKee ordered.

  The cops shuffled Adar and Ahmed into two separate stalls and then stood just outside, waiting for them to finish their business. Adar sat on top of the toilet with his feet off the floor shaking his fist at the ceiling as if cursing at someone. Moments later he and Ahmed sat comfortably aboard Wylyy’s attack ship.

  “Adar, watching you strapped to that bed just doesn’t get old.”

  “Shut up and get my stuff back from them as well as those recordings!” Adar said angrily in Euclidian.

  “What took you so long?” Ahmed shouted at Wylyy, who didn’t understand a word he said.

  “Ahmed, we could not just disappear in front of everyone,” said Adar. “For now, they just have a crazy story about some strange-looking guy with a striped tattoo all over his body, who just disappeared from a bathroom.”

  “What about the recordings?” Ahmed asked Adar.

  “Wylyy, did you get the recordings?” asked Adar in Euclidian. Wylyy nodded affirmatively.

  “That has been taken care of, Ahmed. Wait here for a while. I need to go back and check on something.” Adar stepped on to the transporter platform and turned to Wylyy to give him instructions before being interrupted by Ahmed.

  “Is it okay if they just transport me to your place?” Ahmed asked. “Your friends look like they might eat me.” Ahmed cast a dubious glance at the attack ship’s crew.

  “What is it with you humans? We do not eat people,” Adar said, shaking his head. “Wylyy, send him to my apartment, then transport me to the captain’s office in the police station.”

  ***

  Back at the police station, McKee fumed, wondering who was responsible for the disappearance of Adar and Ahmed.

  “What do you mean, they’re gone?” he shouted, when the cops checked the bathroom and found it empty.

  “We put them in separate stalls,” said one of the officers. “We stood outside for a while. They made a little noise, then we heard this popping sound coming from the stalls and then silence. We forced open the stall doors and found them empty. The perps had completely disappeared,” said the cop, eyeing the floor, embarrassed.

  “So what do we tell the feds when they show up? We lost them in the bathroom? At least we have the tapes.”

  “Captain?” asked a voice coming from the control room.

  “Yes,” McKee answered.

  “We don’t have the tapes. I mean, the DVDs,” said the officer in the control room.

  “The DVDs are missing?” yelled the captain.

  “Well, the recording equipment is gone, too,” said the officer, sounding confused.

  “What do you me
an, it’s gone? Did someone knock you out and take it?” shouted McKee.

  “No, we watched you interrogate the alien through the mirror. When they were escorted to the bathroom, Sandra and I stayed here in the control room. I heard a slight buzzing, turned around, and the whole rack of equipment had vanished,” the officer explained.

  “Great. Now we’re going to look like bumbling idiots to the feds. Sanjiv, call them back and cancel the meeting,” McKee told an officer headed his way. “And I don’t want any talk of aliens leaving this precinct, you hear?” he huffed.

  “That’s what I came to tell you, sir,” said Sanjiv. “The feds are waiting for you in your office.”

  “Marvelous! This day has certainly gone to hell in a handbasket. No one leaves until you have all filled out your reports and we’ve gone over them,” said McKee, storming away.

  ***

  Back in his office, McKee regarded the FBI agents.

  “It’s unfortunate you two came all this way for nothing,” he said apologetically. “My officers misunderstood my orders. Please accept my full apologies, and grab some donuts on the way out.”

  “You guys should eat fewer donuts and focus on doing better police work,” Agent Caitlin Johnson sniped.

  “You are absolutely right, Agent Johnson,” mumbled McKee, grim-faced and embarrassed.

  “Captain, we are part of a task force that has been tracking an alien ship that we believe flew here from the far side of the moon and is hiding out under the Atlantic Ocean.” Caitlin started her speech by placing both her hands on McKee’s desk and staring at him in full ‘glare’ mode.

  “My partner, Alaina Johnson and I have been getting updates from Admiral Lydia Orth at NORAD, where they have spotted the ship leaving the ocean at speeds that no aircraft could possibly match. That person that you lost, that you ‘let disappear’ as you say, is an existential threat to this planet, and you treat his disappearance as if you LOST YOUR CAR KEYS.” Agent Johnson ended her speech with her hands on her hips and continued to glare at McKee.

  After a pregnant pause the captain responded to the agent’s verbal attack.

  “Agent Johnson, I assure you that this matter is of the utmost importance to me and my team. We are just not equipped to handle a threat of this nature. We would certainly welcome a collaboration between our bureaus,” McKee concluded, holding his hand out to the agent as if offering a truce.

  Agent Johnson stood motionless and silent for a moment letting the tension in the room build and enjoying it. This reminds me of how I used to torment my father’s friend with silence in response to his greetings. I love this power.

  She eventually broke her silence. “We’re too busy to babysit you and your team. Agent Johnson and I are going back to our office, and we want to hear from you as soon as you have anything— anything—new to share with us. Is that understood?” Caitlin turned to walk out before Capt. McKee could respond, leaving him with his mouth open.

  “I certainly will, Agent Johnson,” he said, hurrying after the agents. “You and – and Agent Johnson have a safe trip back.” Assholes, Captain McKee mumbled under his breath as he closed the door.

  “Tough break, Captain,” said Adar, swiveling around in McKee’s chair. “Do you have time to talk?”

  “Nice vanishing trick you pulled back there, Adar,” said McKee, trying to calm his racing heart after being angered by the FBI and then startled by the alien.

  “I traveled thousands of lightyears to get here, and you think I cannot free myself from a bathroom?” Adar observed, smirking. “I’m here looking for two escaped prisoners, who are very dangerous. One of them disguised herself to look like me and shot up Luigi’s place. Naturally, when I showed up you mistook me for her.”

  “Maybe that’s true, but why would they imitate Ahmed?” asked the captain, who marveled at himself for attempting to have a rational conversation with an alien.

  “They didn’t. They have the ability to force humans to do their bidding.”

  “Let’s say I believe all of your mumbo jumbo. The woman who fingered you said you are responsible for killing her friend in Chicago. She even had a video of you attacking him,” McKee said, leaning over his own desk at Adar.

  “That man, along with the lady and her sister, are escaped prisoners from our planet. They are the ones I’ve been looking for since I landed on this god-forsaken Earth. Now I’m asking you to help me find them,” the alien said, leaning toward the captain.

  “She didn’t look like an alien at all. Not like you,” said McKee, unconvinced by Adar’s story.

  “Tell me, did she have flawless skin and sparkling eyes?” asked Adar, probing the captain for doubts.

  “Yes, I have to say she did. Recently we filmed two women we thought were Sharon and Sheila, from Charlie Butters’ crew, beating one of our assistant district attorneys to death with hammers. At the same time we filmed those identical women at a restaurant having dinner. How does that happen?” McKee asked, seeing a possible connection to Adar’s story.

  “They are aliens with chameleon-like abilities. They can make themselves look like any human they want. I am sure they contacted you so that you could capture me and get me out of their way,” Adar theorized, thinking he was making headway with the police captain. “They stunned all those people in Times Square, but they could have just as easily killed them all. They are obviously planning something else. You need to help me find them before they kill more of your people.”

  “Really? Chameleons? Well, even if I wanted to help you, I couldn’t. I don’t have the authority to help an alien capture another alien, if that’s what she is or they are.”

  “This is not a joke!” said Adar, pounding on the police officer’s desk.

  “Why don’t you come back into the interrogation room and explain this to my officers and maybe we can help you out,” suggested McKee, motioning his hand towards the door.

  “Why don’t you fly up your own ass,” replied Adar, spinning back around in the chair and disappearing.

  How the hell does he do that? Do I believe him or not? I can’t believe I’m considering working with what appears to be an alien creature, McKee thought.

  He opened the door to his office and walked over to Peters’ desk. “Calvin, put a trace on this number. It’s the one that lady used to warn me about Adar. I can’t believe we are discussing what could be an alien, by name.”

  “Captain, if you don’t mind me saying so,” said Peters, “That guy is definitely an alien. I don’t know if he was trying to do a drug deal in Times Square, but he definitely killed Luigi and his crew.”

  “Still, I want to know who that woman is, and track where she goes,” McKee persisted, staring into the distance.

  “What’s the probable cause for the warrant?” asked Calvin, knowing he needed to do things by the book.

  “Person of interest in the murder of the assistant DA,” McKee replied.

  “The judge is going to laugh at this one, Captain,” said Calvin, shaking his head.

  “I don’t care, just make it happen,” said McKee, running his fingers through his thinning hair.

  Chapter 17

  Drawing Out Adar

  At precinct headquarters, Sgt. Peters rushed into Captain McKee’s office.

  “Captain, I got the info you wanted,” he said excitedly. “The phone number is registered to one Sonny Foster.”

  “The Wall Street guy?” McKee lifted an eyebrow.

  “The same. The phone itself is located in one of his apartment buildings. I can only assume the woman is in his apartment. GPS can’t tell us what floor it’s on. Funny, people complain about the lack of privacy, but leave their GPS on all the time, making them easy to track,” Peters said, shaking his head.

  “So, do you think this Foster guy is involved, dead, or is he just screwing this gal?” asked McKee, leaning back in his chair.

  “He’s not dead. I saw him yesterday doing some interview on Fox News. But we can’t go after him j
ust because he’s having an affair with someone,” mused Peters, trying to come up with a legitimate excuse to investigate Foster.

  “But we can ask him what he knows. Go to his apartment and ask him a few questions. Don’t lean on him too hard—he has too many friends in the department that could cause problems for us. While you are there, see if you can detect any traces of that woman or her sister. And do it discreetly, Calvin.” McKee went back to doing research on his computer terminal as Peters turned and walked away.

  ***

  The afternoon after the Times Square incident, the two alien fugitives lounged on the large couch in Sonny’s penthouse on the 23rd floor of the high-rise he owned in the city. The tycoon’s decorator had gone all out. The room oozed opulence, done in ivory suede and velvet with whitewashed wood furniture and gold metallic accents. The gold silk drapes covering the floor-to-ceiling windows cost over $50,000, as Sonny often told them.

  The two wore black microfiber miniskirts that clung to their hips like a second skin and snug ivory Chanel tops, which Sonny picked out for them. They didn’t particularly appreciate his taste, but they liked the fact that he bought them lots of nice clothes.

  Daloi noticed Sharon and Sheila sneaking around, while she was in Times Square with Dholi. She wondered if they had figured out the Cheoili’s disguises and decided to put a tracker on the cousins. She could follow it with the personal transporter she appropriated from the Andrea and hopefully figure out what Sharon and Sheila were doing. Sitting on the couch next to Dholi, she saw something on the personal transporter screen that startled her.

  “Dholi, I figured out how those cousins are literally getting away with murder. Take a look at the screen here.” Daloi showed Dholi an image on the personal transporter of Sharon and Sheila with two other women. “Those bitches! I’m going to go down the street to catch a cab and confront them.”

  Dholi, who had been reclining on the couch across from Daloi, leaned back in her seat briefly before flicking a bored glance at her sister. She saw little sense in exerting oneself unnecessarily. “Why not use the transporter?” asked Dholi, concerned that her sibling wouldn’t reach the pair before they moved on.