Bio-Justice

by Scott Takemoto

  For Danny, without the motivation to save up money for his future with Sonya, days and evenings working at Henry’s Diner was like being in prison again. He tried to bury himself in the physical demands of the job but now the clock ticked slower, the end of the day seemed more pointless as it sent him home to no one.

  On one of his breaks, Danny tried to start a conversation with a waiter—a young guy, who spent his weekend nights doing improvisational theater in a church basement. But the waiter slapped him with indifference and disinterest, as if his time was being stolen by a guy who should be shuttling dishes back to the machine. Danny wanted to hate him but he recognized a little of himself in the waiter, someone he had been not so very long ago, full of life with little patience for those who appeared to have spent most of it already.

  He wished now that he had kept a little of the money he had left at Sonya’s. He had gained no points by leaving it. Sonya’s contempt would not look upon the gesture with anything but anger at the perceived attempt to induce in her some guilt. He doubted that his son would see the benefit. In his tortured mind, Danny saw the boyfriend with his cash at the racetrack, pissing it all away because of where it came from.

  Tom, the manager, approached Danny as he was getting ready to leave for the night. Telling him that his wife was visiting her sister, Tom asked Danny if he wanted to go bowling with him to relax a bit. Danny had kept everything in—all of his collapsing dreams, the wreckage of the road he thought he had been traveling on, the limbo of an old man looking forward to nothing. Courtesy and grace seemed like herculean tasks.

  “I hate bowling,” Danny said to Tom, and walked out.

  After six o’clock in the evening, most of the employees on the floor had left to go home. Dr. Felice Bennett sat in her office at her computer and searched methodically through the internal files. She went into the system’s shared files and came across a sub-file of Dr. Conlan’s documents. Felice scanned through several that had to do with upcoming speaking events and important meetings. There was a file whose title had drawn her interest: Progress Report - Talon. She tried to open the file but was blocked. Felice frowned and continued her search. She passed another file which snagged her eye and she went back: Contributions – Premium Sentencing. This file opened and Felice was treated to a list of organizations and political action committees which were closely allied with American Correctional. She clicked on the list of PACs and discovered large contributions in the six figures made by American Correctional, spooling out like a list of kept mistresses. There was another file labeled simply Congress and Felice clicked on it several times without success. She clicked on the list of PACs again hoping to find a back door in. And there it was, coyly labeled: Mother’s Helper.

  Felice clicked and the screen widened with a charted list of Senators and Representatives, the amount of money contributed to their campaigns, how many were given “direct” funds and most importantly, how each had cast their vote when Premium Sentencing went to the floor last April. Scrolling down, Felice found the vote tally on the omnibus bill which had attached to it the privatization initiative granting American Correctional the contract to take over the federal prison system. There was also the subsequent vote tally on the amendment to extend American Correctional the contract for state prisons as well. The monies listed amounted to bribes and Felice knew it. Her hands scrambled in her purse for the flash drive she kept for take home projects.

  A figure at her door caused Felice to jump. Dr. Sarkis stood there squinting his eyes at her startled reaction.

  “Dr. Bennett, did I surprise you?”

  Felice smiled, not sure whether it was too much.

  Sarkis saw Felice’s fingers stretch over the keyboard to dissolve the screen view into her luminous desktop screen saver of the solar system.

  “You’re working late, Dr. Sarkis.”

  “Dr. Bennett, it surprises me that you should say that for I’m usually the last one here at night.”

  Felice forced a laugh. “Quite right. How silly of me to comment.”

  “Dr. Bennett, I wanted you to know I’m testing some blood that’s showing some interesting qualities. Perhaps what we’ve been looking for.”

  “Why that’s wonderful,” Felice said. “Anomaly or mutation?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I hope a mutation. Then there’s the chance for a serum.”

  “Please let me know when you have the test results, Dr. Sarkis. I’m dying to know. This could be the breakthrough we’ve been seeking.”

  “Yes,” Sarkis said. “As you know, a scientist should never become enthusiastic until the results are complete and are incontestable.”

  Felice smiled generously at Sarkis. “We’re allowed to be human once in a while, aren’t we, Doctor?”

  “I suppose. Leaving soon?”

  “Yes. Ten minutes at most.”

  “Well,” Sarkis said, “I must get back to the lab.”

  “Good night, Dr. Sarkis.”

  “Good night. Oh, and Dr. Bennett—could we postpone the morning subjects? I think we can double them up with our three o’clock cases.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Dr. Sarkis, but I don’t see why we keep continuing at this furious pace. With the facilities in San Francisco and Houston a month away from being fully operational, I think we can be more deliberative and still meet our numbers. I would hate for the proper procedural care not be given to these subjects.”

  “Dr. Bennett, may I remind you that these are some of the worst examples of the human species. Let’s stop worrying about them as if they were our best and brightest, shall we? Besides, you’re well aware of the schedule. If San Francisco and Houston can help ease the burden, it just means that we are more assured of reaching our goals.”

  After Dr. Sarkis left her office, Felice clicked back on the list of compromised politicians and for one horrifying moment she thought the screen had frozen. A few clicks later, the alarm proved to be false and Felice hurriedly inserted the flash drive and downloaded the documents. She silently prayed that Sarkis had not seen the screen from the distance where he had stood.

  For his part, Sarkis walked back to his lab, reminding himself that he had to speak to the IT department in the morning about the retrieval of click strokes and data from individual hard drives.

  On Christmas Eve, Danny came home from his shift. He had tried to make it up to Tom by being friendly when he saw him again but the manager had been cool and Danny wondered whether he would have a job much longer. The diner was closed for the holidays starting at seven o’clock in the evening and all day Christmas Day. Danny showered, changed into fresh clothes and made himself a cup of coffee. It had been a week since he had seen Maggie. With each passing day, Danny could not look at himself in the mirror without seeing the coward that Maggie would have been ashamed of. He sat at his kitchen table and looked into the shadowy corners of the room, his eye catching the silvery glint of the gift bow.

  Danny got up and retrieved Maggie’s present from atop a small wood veneer bookcase. It was Christmas Eve, he told himself, so he pulled on the ribbon. After tearing at the holly printed gift wrap, he opened the small box. Inside was an old CD with some young black guy with a cap and a funky seventies get-up on the cover. Al Green! So that’s who she was talking about. Sweet, he thought. Jesus, did they still make CDs? He flipped the disc over and a card attached to it fell to the table. It was Louis’ business card. He realized he must have left it with Maggie by accident. It was paper clipped to something and Danny unfastened it and laughed softly to himself. Maggie had attached an orange Monopoly Get Out Of Jail Free card.

  Danny rose from the table and left his apartment, leaving the front door open as he walked down the hall to Maggie’s and knocked on her door. After a couple of times, he called out her name but there was no response. Closing his front door, Danny made his way quickly down the stairs to the street and stepped outside. He turned and looked up at Maggie’s window where her tree had been sparkling
each night since she had gotten it. The window was dark and Danny could see no tree. He felt his stomach fall away and he ran back inside, hammering on the super’s door on the ground floor.

  The super, Mr. Valbuena, answered quickly with an annoyed look on his face. Valbuena, a solidly built man who favored flannel shirts and a grown out beard in the winter, waved back at his children, two little girls who had been huddled around the television watching holiday cartoons.

  “It’s Christmas Eve,” Valbuena said, as if warning that life or death had better figure into this unwelcome visit.

  “Apartment 3A, Maggie Linden—have you seen her?”

  Valbuena looked unconvinced by the necessity of the intrusion. “Mrs. Linden moved out a couple of days ago.”

  “I didn’t see her move.”

  “It was probably while you were at work. A van came. She left most of the heavy stuff. I told her I could get rid of it for her.” Valbuena looked back at his daughters.

  “Did she leave a forwarding address?”

  The super shook his head vigorously. “No, no forwarding address.”

  “I think I left something of mine at her place,” Danny said. “Could I borrow the key? I’ll bring it right back.”

  Valbuena huffed as if he really wanted Danny to know how much of a pest he was becoming. Ultimately, he thought the quickest way to get rid of him was to get the key. Valbuena retrieved it and dangled it before Danny. “Don’t be long,” he said.

  Danny hurried up the stairs and down the corridor until he reached 3A. He opened the door with the key and entered the dark room before turning on the light.

  Maggie had left all of her furniture—the sofa, the sideboard, the dining room table and chairs. The tree, of course, was gone and he feared if he looked out in front of the building by the stoop, he would find it stashed behind the garbage cans for pickup.

  Danny entered the bedroom where the mattress and box spring lay naked without sheets. He pulled open a drawer on the heavy dresser and found only a single Q-tip and some hair pins. He allowed his fingertips to touch the surface of things and then sat on the bed. The room still smelled of Maggie—her powder and perfume and the scent of her on the mattress.

  He started to ask himself why, but he knew why. He should have guessed when Maggie was fixing his tie that she was saying goodbye.

  CHAPTER 19

  Since Christmas, Danny had been sleeping at odd hours, taking naps at indiscriminate times. Maybe it was all the whiskey he had been consuming since his dream of wife and family disintegrated and Maggie had gone. What he had been left with was a loneliness that was crushing, extending before him like an unbearable, permanent state of isolation and disconnection, and he considered any possible escape. Thankfully, he could not look up Pete, even if he wanted to.

  He had been fast asleep when the first call came. Kelty, for the third time (ignored it); Louis, two times in a row (ignored them); but the last call, just as he was about to throw the cell phone across the room, was from Paris. It was now evening and the phone’s clock read six thirty-eight.

  Danny picked up and Paris didn’t speak for several seconds. Finally, he spoke, his voice raspy and soft at the same time. Danny could hear the distress in his voice, the tenuousness of his speech pattern and the despair in his silences.

  “Paris?”

  “Help me.”

  “Paris, where are you?”

  “This shithole of mine.”

  “I’m coming over. Can you hold on?”

  “Do I have a fucking choice?” Paris replied and even in his state, the humor didn’t escape him and he managed to push out a small broken laugh.

  “Just hold on.”

  Danny quickly got dressed, grabbed the cell phone, and was out the door.

  When Louis Castillo pulled up across the street from Danny’s apartment building on Lincoln Road, he saw his man hurrying down the sidewalk in the opposite direction. Jerking the car into drive, Louis skidded away from the curb and pulled alongside Danny. He rolled down his window and yelled out.

  “Danny!”

  “Not now, Louis.” Danny did not break his stride, hurrying ahead, cutting around people flowing in the opposite direction.

  “Danny! Listen to me—get in the car!”

  Danny shook his head, quickening his pace.

  Louis was desperate and now he saw an opening. As Danny was approaching a driveway, Louis rocketed his Acura in a sharp ninety-degree left turn, blocking Danny’s path.

  Danny was about to hurry around the car when he saw the terrified look in Louis’ eyes.

  “Danny, please. Get in the car.”

  A crowd going in both directions started to revolt against Louis’ blockade of the sidewalk. One impeccably dressed young man with his date slammed his hand on the car’s trunk in protest. Danny gave the young man a brutal look and then circled around and got in the car with Louis. The Acura reversed into the street and jerked forward, resuming a regular speed.

  “Well?” Danny said.

  Louis’ eyes were straight ahead when he said, “Do you have anything you can’t replace back at your apartment?”

  “Why?”

  “I want you to leave town—now. I can get you on a train. Drop you off at Penn Station. I’ll give you some money to help you get started.”

  “Louis, you’re not making any sense. What—”

  “I’m afraid for your life, Danny. Could you just listen to me for a second?”

  “Is it Pasteur?”

  “Who the hell is Pasteur?” Louis asked in an agitated voice.

  “Drug dealer. Wanted to kill me. Does he know I live there?”

  “Danny, Danny. Forget Pasteur or whoever the hell you’re thinking of. I got a call asking about you. Did I know where you were. Et cetera. Of course, I said no.”

  “So?”

  “A few minutes ago, I got these two guys coming into my office. Went through your file. Wanted to know every place I knew you frequented. When I protested, this one guy gave me this look I’ll never forget. I tried to call you but you wouldn’t pick up. Danny, I’ve been doing this job a long time. These guys want to do you harm.”

  “You’re going overboard, Louis. Probably Dr. Kelty blew the whistle on me for not getting back to him. I know the game, Louis. It’s called intimidation.”

  “I don’t think so. Danny, please—just until I can find out what these guys want. Let me give you some cash. Take a train to Philly. I know a guy there, runs a room and board for guys out on their luck. Lay low until I can get back to you.”

  “I’ve got an emergency, Louis. A friend needs me right now.”

  “Danny—”

  “Louis, I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Let me think about it. I promise. Let me see this guy and maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.”

  “You know I wouldn’t bullshit you. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

  “I know. Pull over up there.”

  Louis stopped at the stairs leading to the Atlantic Avenue subway station and grabbed Danny’s shoulder before he got out. “Call me,” he said.

  “OK,” Danny nodded, and before he closed the door, he said, “Louis…thanks.”

  Danny hurried down the steps into the subway and what troubled him was that he believed every word Louis had said.

  The street in Queens where Paris lived was impoverished. Street lights cast an ominous glow on the rough outlines of the derelict buildings and the stealthy figures that prowled the sidewalks. Storefronts were slapped with painted over facades, caged with steel security gates and blighted with ugly, debasing graffiti.

  As Danny climbed the steps from the subway, he scoured the numbers on the buildings until he came to the address Paris had given him when they first ran into each other at the diner.

  Danny had expected an apartment building but instead he stood before a seedy establishment, the Cedar Hotel—an old brick building, four stories, with the requisite red neon sign with the “e” in Cedar dark. Although it was st
ill bitter cold outside, there were clusters of people around, suspect creatures ready to spring their game as soon as they spotted a target. As Danny climbed the front stoop, a well-fed man in a fur collared overcoat called out “And how are you, tonight?” laced in a sinister tone that sounded as if his next words would be, “Shall I take your money now or shall I beat you on the way out?”

  Passing the man, Danny saw a woman by the elevator in a low-cut blouse with 3-D cleavage, and a mini-skirt covering her sturdy, muscular legs. “Hey, sweetie,” she cooed, “are you lonely tonight?” The woman was all of twenty-one but worn much older. When Danny ignored her and pressed the button for the elevator, her mouth turned down in momentary disappointment.

  The elevator lurched towards the fourth floor, the doors opening to a long hallway cloaked in shadow. When he reached Room 406, Danny knocked on the door with a sharp rap in case Paris had fallen asleep. He kept knocking until a door down the hall opened and a shirtless man peered at him to investigate the commotion. When he determined there was nothing to see, the man went back inside and slammed his front door.

  Danny called out “Paris!” and then turning the knob, was surprised to feel the door click open.

  Stepping inside the dark room, Danny could see Paris right away. The lights from the street filtering through the shaded window cast an outline around Paris who was sitting on the floor leaning against a threadbare sofa. Danny saw a floor lamp and switched it on, revealing the man he had come to see drenched in rivulets of sweat, his eyes half closed, the face gaunt and motionless, dull in its lack of muscle tone. A thatch of nose hair appeared at each nostril.