The short man immediately gets back into an upright position, kneeling next to Devlin on the sidewalk. He then twists his body left, and swings back to the right, bringing his right elbow down on Devlin’s mouth at the end of his spin.
Devlin’s head smacks into the sidewalk with a hollow thud, and he feels a tooth break loose on the top left side of his jaw. He closes his eyes, grabbing his forehead, and feels blood seeping from his mouth. There is a tremendous throbbing all through his skull as he tries to recover. In his dazed state, he realizes that this man could easily kill him. His heart is pounding rapidly with adrenaline, and for some reason the man’s white shirt suddenly gives him an idea. Devlin swishes around in his mouth and spits blood on the young businessman’s shirt and face.
His attacker instantly backs off, looking at the blood on his body with horror. He frantically begins to wipe it from his face, taking another few steps backward in the process.
“You’re infected now!” Devlin shouts at the man through gritted teeth.
The powerful, Tae Kwon Do instructor now bears a look of shock and dystopian mortality. He glances down at the blood again, and then raises his head to stare in awe at Devlin.
“What do you have!?” The man asks with elevated concern.
“Get the fuck out of here before I have you arrested!” Devlin bluffs with an authoritative voice.
“You tried to steal my car!” The man says with frustration, wiping the rest of the blood from his face with his inner shirtsleeve.
“Is that the same story they’re going to tell?” Devlin asks, gesturing to a crowd of people who are watching the fight less than twenty-yards away. “Most of them only saw the part where you were beating on me; I can easily have you tossed in jail.”
The man looks down at the blood on his shirt with horrified eyes, and he wastes no time in bolting straight for his car, nearly tripping over himself as he goes. Once he enters the vehicle, he forces the sleek sports car through rush hour traffic, cutting off one vehicle after another to get away from Devlin.
As he gets to his feet, Devlin feels like his pride is still laid out on the sidewalk. His left jaw is throbbing, along with his shin and throat. He spits a fresh mix of blood and saliva onto the sidewalk, admiring the spray pattern for half a second as he turns to see Gloria sitting on the grass a few yards away.
“Seriously!?” Devlin asks the bomb sniffing dog as he holds his hands out to his sides. “You’re not trained to help me when this happens? Bad girl!”
The dog stands up and begins to wag her tail; not understanding him, but happy to get the attention. He smiles at Gloria as she obediently steps in front of him and looks up at his battered face, waiting for him to lead the way. Devlin peers further down the sidewalk, then back toward the rows of heavy traffic.
“You’ve got to be shitting me!” Devlin exclaims as he sees a police car mixed in amonst the rush hour traffic nearby.
In the driver seat of the police car a black officer is using his radio to give Devlin’s description to his dispatch team. His redheaded, male partner is also staring directly at Devlin, and watching him with extreme suspicion. When the officers realize that Devlin has spotted them, they turn on their lights, flashing blue and red to clear traffic, creeping ominously in his direction.
With an overwhelming kneejerk reaction, he spins around, putting his back to the police car, sprinting quickly away from them and surveying the streets near him. Gloria also picks up her pace with a spirited gait, the dog adapts to his uneasy demeanor, sniffing the air for threats as they go. Devlin sets his eyes on a Marriott Hotel just 200 yards away. His pace quickens when he realizes that he’ll need to traverse one city block to get there.
CIA Black Site - Chicago
Inside a reinforced concrete building, just a few miles away, Max Maxwell listens to some interesting news coming from the police scanner. A smile forms on his pale face as he realizes that the description being given matches that of Devlin McConnelly. He leans back in his chair with intense satisfaction, grabbing his bald head lovingly with his right hand, as if groping a piece of fruit to extract something sweet.
“Are you listening to me!?” James Richins demands as he stares at Maxwell with a look of disenfranchised betrayal, his blue eyes seemingly innocent, projecting frustration.
“No, I’m not, you dickless tool.” Maxwell replies with a sneer, displaying his typical contempt for all things not relevant to him. “Did you hear that the police scanner just picked up Devlin? We need to get someone over there now.”
Maxwell is wearing his typical black eye-shadow and a black Megadeth T-shirt that reads ‘Peace sells… but who’s buying’ on the front. He turns immediately to a Macintosh laptop on the desk at his right and begins to search the CIA’s proprietary asset management system.
“Should we call Henri?” James asks with a bit more backbone, placing his left hand under his chin and leaning forward with his tall, thin frame.
“I’m doing that right now!” Maxwell snaps, glaring at James with tired eyes, his gaze drifting over the younger man’s bright blue dress shirt and pressed black slacks. “Yes, I have eyes on Devlin McConnelly,” Maxwell announces into the microphone of his laptop while holding a small wireless receiver firmly inside his left ear, “I’m sending the address to your phone. No… That order has been revised. We need to take him out, and it’s okay to go dirty.”
“Are you insane!?” James stares at Maxwell with an open mouth, his neatly polished teeth illuminated in the brightly lit room. “You’re authorizing a dirty op? You haven’t even talked to Henri. What are you doing, you control freak?”
“Check that last order,” Maxwell begins, rolling his eyes at his colleague, “you are authorized to go dirty, but don’t use standard tactics, Devlin will be ready for that.”
“I can’t believe this!” James concedes with helpless frustration, looking at the floor and placing his right hand on his forehead in a fit of anxiety. “You know that Henri is going to feed you your intestines for this, right? A dirty op in the middle of downtown… I wish you’d just leave your balls in the car when you come to work. You know, like a dog? Let them roll around on the floorboards, stop to lick themselves, and maybe lie down for a nap in the afternoon sun?”
Maxwell smiles wide, feeling like he has asserted his dominance effectively, and that his colleague is onboard with the plan. He enjoys James’ analogies during his moments of anxiety; the man displays panache under fire. Maxwell’s face now bears a look of enhanced pride as he continues listening to the police band, and relaying the information to his asset via text messages.
Downtown Chicago
Devlin approaches The Marriott Hotel sprinting like a fawn being pursued by a lion. He spits out more fresh blood, not remembering a time when he ever had a tooth bleed so much. The blood is coursing rapidly through his temples as he looks over his shoulder at the approaching police car. From just a few yards away, the siren is deafening, and the police officers are close enough that their blue and red strobes are flashing on the sidewalk under his feet. As he hears the vehicle stop, and both doors open, Devlin increases his speed; his long blonde hair swinging wildly across the back of his jacket.
An older woman has stopped near the side door of the hotel, watching the pursuit with intrigue and terror. She stares frozen in fear for a moment, her eyes opening wider, noticing that Devlin is moving in her direction.
“Oh shit!” The woman exclaims, realizing that she may be in danger.
With shaky hands she immediately removes her hotel key card and swipes it across the reader, pulling the door open in desperation. As he sees his opportunity fading fast, Devlin dives and grabs the woman’s tanned legs. His left hand misses badly and gets tangled on her thick pink skirt, but his right hand gains a firm grip on her right calf muscle. Despite this small victory, the rest of his body lands heavily on the ground and his left knee smacks the hard cement surface, inducing a surge of pain that forces him to close his eyes for a mome
nt.
“Get away! Get away!” The woman shouts, slapping at his hands feverishly and swinging her jade purse wildly at his head.
The small bag doesn’t deter him, but as the woman pulls back with her weight, he strains to keep his grip, raising his head. Soon he feels a strong thud on the bottom of his jaw from a solid object, and realizes that the woman just kicked him with her high heel. Devlin rolls backward, protecting his face without thinking, and releases his grip on the woman; however, he quickly moves his body to the left, and uses his weight to push the door closed. From this position, he reaches up and snatches the key card from her hand. The woman screams with astounding pitch as her escape route is blocked and she runs toward the corner of the building to safety.
Devlin swallows hard, knowing that the throbbing in his jaw will have to wait. He looks back at the police officers approaching from less than thirty feet away. The muscular, black officer looks intimidating, his eyes are locked on Devlin like a heat seeking missile, and his redheaded partner bears a similar expression, treading only a few steps behind.
Devlin uses his stomach muscles and arms to get back on his feet, clumsily moving in an unbalanced panic. He swipes the key card across the reader, watching the small light turn green as he opens the steel door and strafes sideways behind it. From this position, he holds it open with his right leg against the frame to let the dog inside.
“Gloria, come inside!” He shouts to the Golden Labrador as he leans sideways and pushes the heavy, steel door further open.
The dog looks confused for a moment, but runs under his leg through the half-open door. He is about to join her in the hotel, but the steel door suddenly slams into his thigh. Devlin’s jaw opens in surprise as both officers crash into the door with their weight, pinching his leg at the middle of the thigh muscle, causing tremendous pressure on his bone. He grits his teeth, not knowing if the bone is going to snap. His hands are shaking against the metal surface of the door as he absorbs the powerful blow.
Despite the pain, Devlin looks up in desperation, thinking fluidly as the door continues to compress his leg. The momentum suddenly reverses, and as he feels the two officers trying to pull the door open, he seizes the steel handle with both hands. Devlin looks up to see their hands wrapped around the steel, with fingernails turning white from the strain. For half a second, he pulls hard on the door handle, feeling their resistance from the other side as the door begins to slowly open. Then he releases the handle and kicks the center of the door, which forces him flat on his back. The rough hotel carpet gives Devlin some loving burns on his arms and elbows as he slides backwards.
Outside the hotel, the officers have both dropped to the ground from the combined force of Devlin’s kick and their own resistance. They scramble to their feet feverishly, trying to grab the door before the spring closes it automatically, but it is just out of their reach. As the door shuts and locks, Devlin feels a bit of relief. He rises painfully to his feet, having experienced severe bruising all through his right thigh muscles and bone from being compressed between the door and the doorframe. His heart is pounding in his ears as he looks for the key card, and soon finds it on the floor a few feet away.
After scooping up the key card he forces himself to move forward, trying the card in one door after another; all of the lights coming up red. Devlin knows his time is short and moves to the second floor, hoping the card will work on one of the rooms closest to the side door where he entered the building. He rapidly climbs the stairs with Gloria, pushing himself to move a bit faster as he ignores the nagging pain in his right thigh.
When they reach the second floor, Devlin has no luck trying another ten doors. Just when he is about to try a few others, he hears voices coming from the bottom of the stairs. The voices sound angry and authoritative, but he can’t make out what they are saying. Devlin shakes his head in frustration, moving quickly to the third floor, praying that the card will work in one of the doors nearby.
As he reaches the third floor, he sees a family of six approaching from further down the hallway. Within a split second, the four children notice Gloria, and quicken their pace to inspect the large, golden dog. While the children make their way toward Gloria, the parents stop near the elevators, staring at Devlin with suspicion, and eyeing his dog with more curiosity.
From the husband’s long, red Hawaiian shirt, the wife’s bikini, and children all dressed in swimming suits, Devlin ascertains that they are headed for the pool. The group of children is giving off a lot of noisy chatter, talking about the dog as they move faster to invade his space. Devlin pats his leg, signaling Gloria to follow him to the far end of the hall and away from the curious group. As he reaches the far end of the building, Devlin continues using the card on door after door, hoping to find one that opens.
“Did you forget your room number there, buddy?” The large man asks, his face becoming red as he realizes they will have to wait for their children to pet the dog.
“Yeah, I was talking on the phone when I checked in,” Devlin begins closing his eyes for a moment of nervous irritation, “and I just can’t remember what the clerk told me.”
When he finally tries the seventh door, the light turns green, and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. Devlin opens the door, urging Gloria to get inside before the mob of little people is upon her.
“I apologize,” Devlin says quickly without remorse, “she’s a service dog and we’re not supposed to let anyone touch them… Have a good day!”
Devlin disappears into the hotel room, closing the door behind him as the group of children approaches within just a few feet. He shuts his eyes for a moment, leaning against the door, realizing that he can’t stay here for long. After taking the proper amount of time to clear his head, he steps over to the window and the balcony, but the drop is too far, and he decides it will serve as a last minute alternative, especially with Gloria.
Devlin strides into the bathroom, leans over the sink and uses the small faucet to run some cool water, which he immediately splashes on his face. He stops for a moment to gaze at himself in the mirror, realizing that he is going about this all wrong. Every man who is being hunted makes exactly these same mistakes, and the end result is that they all die in a violent shootout with the police. As he looks into his blue eyes and examines his long, blonde hair in the mirror, it reminds him of home, his wife, and everything that makes his life real.
He steps out of the bathroom towards the large windows of the upscale hotel room. For the first time in a few days his mind feels clear and he has a sense of freedom and duty. Devlin thinks back to his studies from the The Art of War by Sun Tzu, and knows that the goal is to destroy his enemy from the inside.
As he takes a seat on the bed, Gloria steps over and puts her head on his right knee. He strokes her soft, golden fur, staring out the window, and formulating a plan to hurt Henri Edwards in the most meaningful way.
He recalls the case studies: a badly burned car accident victim, an older man whose young daughter died in a bus crash, the war veteran who returned to a wife assaulted by a gang, and a paranoid schizophrenic woman still in love with her husband after twenty years. Devlin puts his head down in shame, knowing that he would have followed through under Henri’s psychotic influence to destroy those people. The callous nature of what is being done to them in the name of safer streets is something that numbs the soul, and grieves the heart.
His thoughts caress different topics, searching for the right means to harm the operation. How does one man injure and spite a veritable army? Devlin considers the possibility of leaking the story about the blind woman. Although this would ruin Henri’s political career, if it worked, it still may not stop the operation to study gun violence. He ponders the novelty of getting the police and other local authorities involved, but who will listen to him after he has been labeled as an enemy of the United States?
Devlin breathes deeply, clearing his head and forcing himself to focus. He closes his eyes for a moment, fearing that hi
s ultimate conclusion might be remiss. The last thing he wants to do is give up the life he has built with Yulia after fighting so hard to get back from The Gulf War. He looks at Gloria and considers the consequences, concluding that there is no other way; his approach must begin with a direct assault on the CIA black site.
Gloria raises her ears and turns her head toward the solid, white door of the hotel room. Devlin follows her gaze, and is not surprised to hear a knock a few seconds later. He gets up from the bed, treading cautiously across the carpet, fully alert with fresh adrenaline still pumping through his veins.
When Devlin is only five feet from the door, standing just off to the right, he decides to engage the mystery visitor.
“Who’s there?” He asks, shouting a bit so that his voice carries through the solid pinewood.
“Room service, Sir;” a sickly male voice replies through the door, “I have some champagne and strawberries for you.”
She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) Page 4