by Margot Scott
He and Alex arrived at Vincent’s home, dressed in head to toe black. Alex disabled the security alarm, while Nick scouted around the home, ensuring no bodyguards, attack dogs, or booby traps were laid. Then, Alex gave the signal and Nick silently entered the back door, using a window glass cutter to slice open a hole in the window, allowing him to slip his hand through to open the deadbolt on the other side of the door. Alex stood outside as watch guard, his body pressed firmly against the side of the house.
Nick knew his way around Vinnie’s home, having obtained blueprints of the house, memorizing the layout of the interior. Nick moved quickly, silently, through the living room, his heart pounding, ready for action.
Nick turned the corner of the hallway, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Suddenly, he heard something, a slight creak, and stopped dead in his tracks, his gut telling him something had gone terribly wrong. Slowly he turned around, and came face to face with the cold, shiny barrel of a Glock 21, pointed directly at him.
“Scream and I’ll kill you.” Vincent Rossi stood directly in front of Nick, his gun pointed at Nick’s head. “Drop your gun,” Vincent demanded in his harsh Italian accent. Nick did as he was told, dropping his gun to the floor with a clatter. Nick stared into murderous, hateful black eyes, praying to God this wasn’t the end.
Vincent, thinking Nick was from a rival Mafia gang sent to settle an old score, had no idea Nick was from MI-5. He had no clue that the British government, with assistance from the United States and Italian authorities, had been watching and waiting, and that he had been under constant surveillance for many years. If Vincent had known all of this, he might have been more cooperative, knowing that his highly paid, very powerful Mafia lawyers could get him out of jail.
Vincent, with the end of his pistol pressed firmly into Nick’s back, pushed him to the couch, Nick’s hands raised high above his head.
“Who sent you?” Vincent demanded.
Nick gave no response.
“I said who sent you?” Vincent said, voice bellowing, his temper getting the best of him. Vincent was not a man who kept his cool.
Nick only stared at Vincent, vowing not to give any information away, struggling to keep his fear at bay.
Vincent punched Nick in the stomach as hard as he could, causing Nick to double over in agonizing pain, gasping for breath. Then a hard left to his jaw. Nick could feel his jawbone cracking under Vincent’s fist as he fell down to the ground, spitting out blood.
Nick desperately tried to get away, crawling on his stomach towards the door.
Vincent pounced, pinning Nick down with his foot, determined to kill this intruder. Vincent pointed his gun at the base of Nick’s skull, seconds away from pulling the trigger.
“AHHH!!!” Vincent screamed out like a wild animal, the pain slicing through his back and radiating throughout the rest of his body. Blood seeped through his shirt, a deep, crimson patch slowly spreading its way across his back. Vincent collapsed in a heap, falling down on the hard floor.
Nick, still lying face down on the ground, stared into Vincent’s cold, lifeless eyes. Nick rolled over and saw Alex standing only a few feet away, lowering his gun, eyes glued to Vincent’s dead body. This is not what they had planned.
“Are you okay?!” Alex said to Nick, crouching down to help his partner. Nick could smell the smoke from the pistol, causing his stomach to roll with waves of nausea. Nick turned his head, vomiting uncontrollably, causing his body to convulse with spasms of fear.
They left the scene after contacting their superiors at MI-5, informing them of the status of the operation. Nick and Alex were both heralded as heroes, bringing to justice one of the most dangerous fugitives in the country. Nick was finally the hero he always wanted to be.
In the months that followed, Nick began having difficulty sleeping. He started to feel that being a hero wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Each time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Vincent Rossi’s dead eyes staring back at him. He had chilling nightmares of Rossi chasing him down dark, seedy alleyways, while laughing a crazy maniacal laugh. Nick tried to push it out of his mind, telling himself to give it time and that this would pass. It didn’t. It only got worse. Much worse.
One Saturday afternoon, Nick was out, walking to his and Nicole’s favorite fish and chip shop to pick up an early dinner. Nick felt fine, noting that he had slept well the previous night, the best night’s sleep he’d had in a long time. He was glad to be outside, getting some fresh air, thoughts of plans that he and Nicole had that evening.
He strolled along, whistling to himself. Suddenly, a man caught Nick’s eye, causing Nick to jerk his head back, double taking. This wasn’t just any man. It was Vincent Rossi. Nick stopped in his tracks, his heart pumping faster, his breathing quicker. No, it’s impossible, thought Nick. Bloody hell, the man was dead! Alex put a bullet in the fucker’s back!
Only maybe he wasn’t dead, Nick thought, his mind racing. He stepped back from the sidewalk into a quiet side street, put on a cap, trying his best to conceal himself. Nick looked across the street to where he saw Vincent, eyes straining, scanning the area, desperate to locate him.
There he was. Vincent Rossi. Nick saw him sitting at a table, at an outdoor café, sipping a glass of red wine. The red wine reminded him of Vincent’s blood soaked shirt. The man glanced in Nick’s direction, allowing Nick to get a good look at him. Nick was certain. It was Vincent Rossi.
Oh fuck! His nightmares were turning into reality. Suddenly, standing in the middle of the little side alley, Nick felt the walls of the buildings crushing down on him. He felt a wave of sheer panic, knowing that Vincent Rossi was still alive, and it was just a matter of time before Vincent would hunt him down and kill him.
Nick bolted, running down the alleyway, as fast as he could, just like in his nightmares. Only now he was certain, it wasn’t a nightmare.
Nick slammed the door shut to his flat, causing Nicole to jump. She put the remote down on the coffee table, rushing to the door. What she saw frightened her, immediately realizing something was very wrong even before Nick opened his mouth.
Nick stood in front of the door, pacing, every few seconds looking out of the peephole. His eyes were wild, his pupils dilated. Nick ran his fingers through his hair, a look of panic and confusion etched on his face.
“Nick, baby, what is it?” Nicole asked her voice rising with fear. She reached out to touch his hand, trying to calm him down. Nick jerked his hand back quickly, as if her touch caused him physical pain.
“Nick, please, tell me what’s wrong.” Nicole tried to talk to him in a soothing, reassuring voice, hoping this would calm him down enough so that he would talk to her. Nicole was aware he worked for the government, in a fairly high-level position, and that Nick’s work could at times be dangerous. Nicole didn’t know anything else, and very often wondered if she would ever know more.
Nicole had noticed some odd behavior from Nick recently. First it started with a lack of sleep, dark circles under Nick’s eyes, his face pale and drawn. Then, the nightmares that would cause Nick to wake up screaming, drenched in a cold sweat. Once, Nicole awoke in the middle of the night to find Nick on the floor, curled up in a corner of the room, shaking uncontrollably. Nicole tried discussing these disturbing occurrences with Nick, pleading with him to open up to her, to let her help him. She even suggested Nick see a doctor. Nick became defensive and angry, saying he didn’t know what she was talking about.
“He’s after me,” Nick said, his voice barely a whisper.
“Who’s after you?” Nicole asked gently.
“Him.”
“Tell me about him, Nick. Please.”
Nick looked at Nicole, his brown eyes filled with fear and panic, his mind racing, unable to hold on to any coherent thought, feeling as though he was walking along the edge of insanity.
Suddenly, Nick had a gut-wrenching thought – what if he was here? What if Vincent Rossi had managed to get inside their flat, hiding, waiting an
y second now to leap out of the shadows?
Nick searched the flat, his eyes darting back and forth, as he frantically went from room to room, wanting to make absolutely certain that Vincent wasn’t lurking somewhere in their home. Nick checked the locks on each window, while hastily pulling the drapes closed.
Nicole stood in the middle of the dark living room, speechless. She reached for the phone, determined to get Nick the help he so desperately needed.
Nick grabbed the phone out her hand and threw it on the floor. “You can’t do that!” Nick shrieked, convinced Rossi had bugged their phone. “He’s listening!” he said angrily, thinking how stupid Nicole was to do such a thing. Didn’t she realize how dangerous Rossi is?
Nicole was at a loss. Her concern for Nick had been growing more and more as the weeks went by. Now she was scared. She began shaking, and she sat down on the couch suddenly, her legs ready to give out. Nicole buried her face in her hands, sobbing, tears streaking down her pretty face.
“I don’t know what to do!” Nicole cried helplessly. She looked up at Nick, praying he would come to his senses and snap out of whatever this was.
Nick, feeling more in control now that he had assessed the area and determined that their home was safe, sat down next to Nicole, leaning over to comfort her. He was okay, Nick decided. Rossi wasn’t going to get him that easily. He was Nick Stone - highly trained, specialized field operative for MI-5. He was trained to be calm, cool, and collected. In control of himself and his surroundings. These thoughts calmed Nick, reminding him of who he was.
Nick leaned back on the couch, stroking Nicole’s hair. He suddenly felt extremely tired, his eyelids drooping, barely able to stay open. Within two minutes, Nick Stone feel into a deep sleep, his body and mind exhausted.
Nick went about his daily routine, trying to keep up with appearances. He attempted to busy himself with work. Nick and Alex were given new cases, new assignments. He did his best to conceal his escalating fear and paranoia. Nick and Nicole never discussed what happened that Saturday afternoon. Nicole was too afraid to bring it up. Nick, his mind deteriorating, fully believing that Vincent Rossi was still alive, thought it was best to keep the information to himself. He could handle this. And he would. Nick decided he would take Rossi out. When the time was right, he’d kill the son-of-a-bitch once and for all.
Alex sensed something was wrong with his partner. Showing up late for meetings, forgetting important details of the cases they were working on. Alex would ask Nick a question and would get no response whatsoever, as if Nick didn’t even hear him. On one occasion, Alex popped his head into Nick’s office, after knocking several times and getting no answer, only to find Nick pacing around his desk, head down, mumbling to himself.
Nick jerked his head up, startled. Alex stared at Nick, unable to hide his worry and concern. “Hey, Nick. I knocked, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine! What do you want?” Nick snapped, obviously agitated. He had been in deep thought about his plan to murder Vincent Rossi and didn’t appreciate Alex interrupting him.
“I just needed to get a file.” Alex walked to the filing cabinet, taking another glance at Nick, while he retrieved the file he needed. Alex frowned, realizing something was seriously wrong with his partner. Nick was usually so pulled together, shirts perfectly pressed, shoes always shining. Not the disheveled, unshaven man in front of him.
“If you need to talk, you know I’m here for you,” said Alex, trying to reach out.
“Yeah, okay, thanks,” Nick responded dismissively, trying to keep the conversation to a minimum. He wished Alex would hurry up and get the hell out of his office.
“Seriously, Nick. I’m here for you.” Alex pushed.
“Fuck, man! I heard you! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” Nick exploded, eyes blazing.
“Okay, okay,” Alex said, holding his hands up, taking a step back. Don’t push it, Alex thought. He’d seen a few others lose it while at MI-5, the st ress and pressures of the job too much for them. He knew the warning signs.
The next day Alex received a phone call from Nicole.
“Alex. It’s Nicole. I need to speak to you. Do you have a minute?” Nicole asked anxiously, hoping Alex could help.
“Of course,” said Alex. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Nick. I’m really worried about him. He’s not been himself these last few months. Something is going on with him.” Nicole paused. “He’s……..different.” Nicole struggled to keep her voice even, fighting back the tears.
“Tell me what’s going on,” Alex said. Nicole poured her heart out, telling Alex everything about Nick’s strange behavior, the nightmares, and the lack of sleep. His paranoia about some man, only referring to this person as “him”, but never revealing to Nicole who he was speaking about. She told Alex how frightened she was, and that she felt she had to walk on eggshells around Nick, scared he would explode at any given moment. As Nicole spoke, Alex listened, confirming his suspicions.
“Please help me, Alex. I didn’t know who else to turn to. I’ve tried to get him some help, begged him, but he refuses.” Nicole burst into tears, unable to contain herself any longer.
“It’s going to be alright, Nicole. I’ll do everything in my power to help him,” Alex said, trying his best to reassure Nicole. It was obvious to Alex that she desperately wanted Nick to get treatment.
“Thank you, Alex. I knew if anyone could do something, it would be you.”
Alex put the phone down, leaned back in his office chair. He knew what he had to do. He’d speak with his superiors, informing them of Nick’s behavior. Usually when an employee starts to show signs of a breakdown, a psychiatric referral is made, and the person undergoes an evaluation. Hopefully, Nick would agree to psychiatric treatment if recommended. And, thought Alex regretfully, he felt almost certain that’s exactly what Nick would require.
Alex spoke to his supervisor, expressing his worry and concern regarding Nick’s mental health. He also relayed his conversation he had with Nicole and her ever-growing fear of Nick. Both Alex and Nick’s supervisor and the department manager agreed Nick needed a psychiatric evaluation as well as a drug test, in case Nick’s bizarre behavior was a result of substance abuse.
On the day of Nick’s psychiatric evaluation, he was called into the main conference room. By this time, Nick was a total mess. He had not slept in three days, barely eaten, his appetite completely gone. He was jumpy, any noise caused extreme irritation. Nick looked at everyone warily, including Alex, deciding no one was to be trusted. Nicole left him. This only added to his psychosis, believing that she was ‘in’ with Vincent Rossi. In fact, Nick thought that everyone was all part of one big conspiracy to kill him.
It did not take the psychiatrist conducting the evaluation long to realize Nick Stone was indeed unraveling. A full-blown psychotic breakdown was happening in the mind and body of this man. After a series of routine questions, Nick suddenly leapt across the conference table, holding a knife up against the psychiatrist’s neck.
“I know who you are,” growled Nick. “You work for him, don’t you?!” Nick pushed the knife harder against the doctor’s neck, ready to slice his throat.
“ANSWER ME!!!!” Nick screamed into the psychiatrist’s ear, practically blowing his eardrums out.
The doors flung open and several security guards pulled Nick off the doctor, kicking and screaming like a wild, feral animal. Alex, his supervisor, and the department manager all came rushing to the scene, having been watching the evaluation behind a one way mirror.
Unable to be subdued, the good doctor gave Nick an injection of thorazine, a heavy-duty tranquilizer, and ordered an ambulance to rush Nick to the nearest psychiatric hospital. Nick fought as hard as he could, but was no match against the powerful drug.
As Nick faded into oblivion, he saw Alex, standing in a corner of the room, a look of sorrow on his face. This angered Nick greatly, who, in his haze, mistook the look as pity.
; “Ffff…..Fuccc…..FUCK YOUUU!” Nick managed to holler out, pointing at Alex. “You. You did thissss too meeeee…….” Nick passed out, the drug finally taking effect.
The paramedics arrived, whisking Nick away to the hospital. The psychiatrist, having not been pleased about Nick putting a knife to his throat, turned to Alex. “You did the right thing informing us. Nick will get the treatment he most certainly needs,” he said, rubbing his neck.
Three months later
Alex McCall missed his partner. He had visited Nick twice since his hospitalization. Both visits were the same – Alex attempting to converse with Nick, while Nick sat in a wheelchair, staring into space. It was too much for Alex, who felt a massive sense of loss and sorrow for what had happened to his partner, his friend.
Alex’s sense of loss and sorrow would only become much deeper and wider in the months that followed. His lovely pregnant wife, Michelle, was involved in a hit and run accident while riding her bike in London, and died instantly. Alex and the team at MI-5 knew it was no accident, knowing full well it was Rossi’s gang of Mafia out to get Alex. Alex slept with one eye open, paranoia a way of life. Eventually, MI-5 tracked the assassin down, killing him and his accomplices. A few months later, Alex quit MI-5. He went underground, still grieving the loss of his wife and unborn child, living in his own private hell.
Nick Stone, too, lived in his own private hell. Six months of intensive psychiatric treatment, and still no discharge date in sight. His doctors and therapists all said he was progressing, but that he still required in-patient hospitalization. No matter, Nick thought. He would continue to play the game, telling them what they wanted to hear. One day he would be free. And then he would find Alex. Retribution. Pay back.
As Nick was thinking about all of this, he stood in front of a window, staring out, gripping the black bars that covered it, his pale blue hospital gown hanging off his skeletal frame. Slowly, a faint smile spread across Nick’s face, his head titled. He stood there for hours, a thin line of drool dripping down the corner of his mouth.