Audio Assault

by Jeff Adams

  The bikes were outside a very nice bike shop—it reminded me of the one I frequented in Boston. Inside bikes, mostly mid- and high-end models, sat on display along with all sorts of accessories. In the back, someone worked on bike in a repair area.

  “Can I help you?” a young woman asked. She stood behind a counter along the right wall and wore shorts and a Bicycle Habitat T-shirt.

  “Do you rent bikes?”

  “We have some hourly rentals. Unfortunately, we stop renting at six on weekdays.”

  I nodded and looked around the store. Hanging on the wall was the same bike I had back home, except it was the newer model. I really wanted to ride. It would help so much more than a walk, run, or skate.

  “How much is that bike?” I pointed to the one I wanted. I liked the steel gray color of the body—much more stylish than the flat black I owned. The new bike wouldn’t be as customized as I’d made mine over the years, but it would more than do.

  “That one is twelve hundred dollars. I can show you some cheaper ones that are not as light but might be more in your budget.”

  “I’ll take it. I’d also like to swap out the clipless pedals for regular ones since I don’t have my cleats.”

  She looked a little dumbfounded that I just agreed to spend more than a thousand dollars.

  “Uhm, okay. Let me go ahead and pull this down, and we’ll see about getting it fitted for you.”

  The apprehension was clear, and I couldn’t blame her for it.

  “If it makes you feel better, you can run my credit card first. Just let me add the pedals, riding shorts, a helmet, and lights and you can total it up.” I reached for my wallet and a relieved smile played over her face.

  Once she ran the card and verified my ID she was in a much better mood and even tried to apologize for her hesitancy. I thanked her and told her not to worry about it. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened.

  “The bike Liam’s working on is actually due out this evening I’m not sure we can get the pedals swapped.” She had the pedals in her hands.

  “If I can borrow tools, I can do it myself and the fitting as well.”

  “Well okay, then.” It wasn’t long before she came back with tools and helped keep the bike steady, so I could do the work since there wasn’t another rack to use.

  Some of the stress fell away as I did something completely unrelated to the day.

  I had the bike ready to go in no time. Because I serviced mine, making the adjustments was easy. I slipped into a changing room, so I could get into the bike shorts. Once that was done and I had my other shorts and the spare pedals in my pack, I was ready to go.

  Riding west on Twenty-Third Street felt good as I could focus on rhythm of pedaling. Riding alongside the evening traffic was the best thing I’d done since—well, since the run with Eddie in the park.

  As I approached the western side of the city, the river came into view. I liked rivers. I routinely biked over them in Boston and, if I had time, I’d stop and just watch.

  The park was beautiful—green grass areas, paths zigzagging through, and plenty of benches and some artwork. Not to mention the beautiful river that separated the city from New Jersey. Ferries and even a barge traveled on the water.

  I dismounted the bike and walked around the grass, keeping to the pedestrian paths to get to the railing along the riverfront.

  Eddie would like it here.

  Where was he now? Still in the city? Back in Boston? Was he even in the country?

  Was he safe?

  Did he miss me like I missed him?

  I squeezed my eyes shut to keep the tears in. I missed him. I shouldn’t but I couldn’t help it. We had plans—lots of them—and he’d vaporized them. I wanted to scream at him… and hug him. It was messed up.

  So many questions that I’d probably never have answers to. Even if the Cochranes were found, how much would I get to know? My parents already kept details from me.

  How had I missed what he was up to? More importantly, how was I found out? I always took steps to safeguard my TOS connections.

  Nothing seemed amiss in our relationship. Eddie sometimes didn’t like it when I got too busy and couldn’t tell him exactly why, but over the last few months we’d worked through a lot of that. I’d even changed up how I worked to make sure there was more time for us.

  While the relaxing vibe of the river washed over me, I did some of the exercises I got from Shields, to help still my mind. The problems didn’t disappear, but it usually let me consider them in a more orderly fashion.

  Shields sometimes seemed psychic with how easily she read me. Ridiculous, of course, since she was simply excellent at her job. However, the buzz in my pocket indicating her ringtone was still appropriate since I was employing her techniques.

  As she identified, a barge horn sounded in the distance. “Where are you?” she asked.

  “Standing in a park, watching the Hudson drift by.”

  “That sounds nice, especially after the day I’ve heard you’ve had.”

  I’d worked with her for several months now—ever since Denver. We talked once a week, and more if either one of us thought I needed it. I’d planned to call her later, but apparently she was alerted that I might need her sooner than that.

  “I promise I was going to call.” I shuffled through my pack for earbuds so I wouldn’t have to hold the phone.

  “People have been in touch with me so I thought I’d reach out.”

  “It’s been….” I got the buds in my ears and considered what I wanted to say first. I didn’t have to hold back with Shields, but where was the right place to start. Patient as always, she waited for me. “I thought Denver was about as bad as it could get. But…. I didn’t know I could hurt like this.”

  My chest tightened. Despite the outburst I’d had earlier, I’d held a lot back and it roared in, filling me with so many feelings. I couldn’t sort it out and didn’t know how to explain it to Shields either.

  “I don’t know… How am I supposed to go forward?” Quickly realizing how that might sound, I clarified. “And I don’t mean that in a suicidal way. But how do I work for TOS when I let myself get so compromised? And if I do, how do I get close to anybody again?”

  “I’m glad you’re not thinking of harming yourself—”

  “Absolutely not,” I emphasized.

  “Good. Let’s make sure it stays that way. Tell me, what’s on your mind the most?”

  “There’s a battle for the top spot.” I spoke softly so my voice wouldn’t carry. Facing the river helped that as well. “I might have killed someone today and beyond that I wanted to hurt people. I couldn’t stop myself. Then there’s the situation with Eddie. How did that happen? I thought I knew him.”

  I thought I was done, but when Shields took in a breath to start her response, I stopped her.

  “And please don’t say most of this wasn’t in my control. I get that. It doesn’t change how bad this sucks.”

  “You got me,” she said, a lightness in her voice that also soothed. “That’s where I was going to start. I’m glad you already know that. Most of this will require time to get past. Talking will help so don’t close yourself off. Honestly that’s where the concern is right now.”

  A sigh escaped. “I probably shouldn’t have taken off.”

  “Sounds like you relived some pressure, which is okay. People are worried because this is new for you.”

  “I’m not sure I can get used to this kind of thing.”

  “You don’t want to get used to it. For most it’s constantly learning how to manage the feelings that come. You’ve had multiple traumatic events in a short span, so your state of mind isn’t a surprise. I’d be questioning you more if you were trying to push the weight of the incidents aside now that the mission is mostly complete. Honestly, you opening our conversation telling me how much you hurt was good.”

  I nodded.

  “Winger?” she asked after I didn’t speak.

  “Sorry.
I nodded and forgot to actually speak.”

  “How about this—hang out at the river, do what you need to do and call me later this evening? Whenever you’re ready—whether it’s five minutes from now or five hours. We’ll dig into it all.”

  “That’s a plan,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “You should know that I have to report back that I’ve talked to you so people know you’re safe.”

  “Of course. You can tell them I’ll apologize later too.”

  So many people to apologize too—Mom and Dad, John, Lorenzo, the team.

  “I’ll do that. Talk to you soon, Winger.” She disconnected.

  I stayed where I was and watched boats travel the river for another hour or so. Once I was ready to go, I pulled up the GPS on my phone and saw the trip into Brooklyn would take about an hour.

  No doubt the next few days—or maybe weeks—were going to be tough. The talk with Shields and the soothing water allowed me to get myself together so I wouldn’t fly apart at the seams—at least for now.

  I sent a group text to Mom, Dad, and John to let them know I was okay and biking back to Brooklyn. I didn’t wait for a response. Since I didn’t have a way to attach my phone to the handlebars, I set the GPS, left one earbud in—even though I hated biking with earbuds because it wasn’t the safest thing—and rode out.

  I kept a fairly slow pace, at least for me. The shared bike path had too many people, and I honestly wasn’t in a hurry.

  Sifting through my time with Eddie, so much awesome filled out time.

  The first time I took him ice skating. He had such grace in the water when he swam but getting him used to skates? Such a mess. It took him a while to figure out his center of gravity and how it played into skating, and I enjoyed how he’d hang on to me to keep from falling.

  He’d had a look of complete bliss when I introduced him to the peanut butter cream pie at Rose’s. That was part of our second date after we saw some lame Zac Efron movie, which we only went to because he was shirtless in the previews. He’d never been to Rose’s and it was one of my favorites. He loved the ’50s retro tables and chairs along with the chili mac. The pie, though, had him moaning in delight, almost to an embarrassing degree.

  Surprising me in Denver might be his best….

  Denver.

  He’d said he tagged along with his dad on a business trip, so he could see me play in the hockey tournament. Truth? Or did he know why I’d really made the tip?

  Lorenzo had asked earlier this year—was someone using him to get to me?

  There were events that didn’t add up, especially around the computer science competition last year—the virus on his thumb drive, the weird signal from his home Wi-Fi, the odd time when my phone’s security went off during our phone calls. It was easy to brush those away as coincidences.

  Why would his family be involved in anything like that? Stupid question. I came from a family of covert agents. Why would mine be the only one?

  And, Melissa’s connection to Westside. Did we know he had a wife? None of that information made its way to me, but I wondered what TOS knew and if that threat had been on the radar.

  What about Oliver too? This whole trip could’ve been an elaborate setup? It seemed unbelievable.

  Unbelievable—a word that could be applied to so much after the past couple of days.

  I focused on the ride going over the bridge and that cleared my head. As beautiful as the bridge was, it was a painful ride—and not in a good way. Forced to go too slow up the approach, to dodge and weave around the packs of oblivious pedestrians was frustrating. Once I was off the bridge I picked up speed to ride with traffic. The faster I went the better I felt.

  The brownstone looked fully occupied when I arrived. Lights illuminated each floor, except for mine.

  Once I let Mom and Dad know I’d arrived, a shower, more talk with Shields and work filled my evening to-do list. Thankfully everyone else left me alone.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I WOKE up to my phone buzzing. Even before my eyes fully focused, I could tell it was pretty late because of the sun trying to eke its way through the closed curtains.

  Yikes. The phone screen showed I’d slept past ten.

  Granted I didn’t go to bed until near three, but ten was still late because I could rarely sleep much past six.

  “Hey, Mom,” I said when I connected the call.

  I remained lying in bed, sheet pulled up to my neck with just one arm out to hold the phone. I was sore. I enjoyed the good physical sore with my legs feeling like I might have overdone it. The headache was unfortunate.

  “Sorry. I hoped I wouldn’t wake you. Do you want to come for breakfast? We decided a home-cooked meal was in order.”

  I flashed back to when I was eight or nine and there’d always be breakfast on the weekends when Mom or Dad were home. Usually a big one with every type of breakfast food imaginable. As I got older, I helped with the prep. Sometime after I’d started with TOS, it kind of drifted away. I guess we all got too busy.

  “I’d like that.”

  I could make a start of apologizing for yesterday too.

  “Come on up. John’s here too. We’re just about to start cooking, so if you hurry you can get some of the first batch.”

  “I’ll be there in a minute. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Love you, Theo.”

  I got up and shuffled into the bathroom. God, I looked awful. I could’ve done without seeing that. The dark circles under my eyes combined with the haggard expression represented the exhaustion I felt. Maybe the attempt at a beard wasn’t the best choice either because it seemed to make it all worse.

  I splashed hot water across my face, hoping it would help.

  It’d been a long night of work with Split Screen to finalize the code to clean the infected music. Some consumers would automatically get new files if they allowed Glenwood automatic updates. However, our program would also trigger a new file download if the device with an infected file connected to the internet in any way.

  On the Glenwood Music side, the distribution system would go online today with clean files. I’d written a program to help make sure they only had clean files in the system.

  I threw on shorts and a T-shirt from the clean stuff I had in the duffel bag before heading out. As soon as I walked into Mom and Dad’s, I was hit with the smell of bacon and either pancakes or waffles.

  “Wow, it smells good in here,” I went straight to the kitchen area. “You might have the whole neighborhood here if that smell gets out.”

  “I’m really sorry I woke you.” Mom left the stove where she’d been starting the bacon. She wrapped me in a hug that I held on to for a while. Once I let her go, she put a kiss on my forehead. “You’re usually up so early, I figured you were down there working or even out riding.”

  “You can wake me up for breakfast anytime,” I said as she went back to the stove. “It was a long night, but we got it done.”

  “Maybe you’ll be able to take it easy today. I think we can all use a calm day,” she said.

  “Did you really buy a new bike?” John asked.

  “Yeah. I really needed to be outside so I made an impulse buy.” I looked around the small kitchen that seemed to have food prep going on atop every surface. “So, listen, I’m sorry about—”

  “You were under a tremendous amount of stress.” Dad sat the baking dish down that he’d pulled from a cupboard. “We owe you an apology too. We should’ve told you about the Cochrane’s moving. You don’t exactly need to be protected and it wasn’t right you had to get that news from Mitch.”

  “I’ll try not to yell at you guys again.” I offered a weak smile.

  “We’ll try not to make it where you have to,” Dad continued. Mom wrapped an arm around my back. “Especially for TOS related stuff.”

  Meaning if I messed up as a teenager, I’d still get an earful about it and be expected to take it.

  “What can I do?” I looked around the kitchen, ready to
move on.

  “You want to take over pancakes or handle the eggs?” Dad asked, sounding relieved.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d actually give me pancake detail? Seriously? You know my track record isn’t pretty.”

  “Just giving you the choice of the available jobs.” He smiled as he crossed the kitchen and ruffled my hair, which was still in full bed-head mode. The ruffle flashbacked again to breakfasts of childhood.

  “I’ll handle the scrambled eggs since it’s hard to mess those up. When did all this food get here?”

  “We went shopping earlier because we wanted the big breakfast,” Mom said.

  Was the need to cook for them or for me? I’d certainly been through the ringer. They had too, really. Hell, they probably had it worse since they juggled being agents and parents. Was that easier than what I did? I wasn’t so sure since they had each other to worry about too.

  As I drifted off to sleep last night, I tried to figure out the worst thing that had happened in the past nine months or so. Almost having Dad shoot me? Balancing student and agent during the computer science competition? Losing the rest of my junior year hockey season because I got shot?

  And the latest—Eddie’s double cross.

  Individually, calling them horrible did seem to do them justice. Listed together, I didn’t know how I avoided going off the deep end.

  I had a great support system, though. Eddie had been a huge part of that, nesting in between my parents and Mitch.

  Eddie and I complemented each other perfectly. I could relax him when he stressed, and he did the same for me. That alone left a huge void in my life. How did I bounce back from that and everything else he was to me?

  “What’re you thinking about?” John asked. “Are you expecting more from that egg?”

  Oh man. I hadn’t realized I’d stopped in the middle of cracking an egg, holding an empty shell over the mixing bowl.

  “Sorry. Got caught up in my head.”

  Dad stopped arranging biscuits in the pan and put his arm around my shoulders pulling me tight against him. “I’m not going to try to tell you how you’re supposed to feel, other than to let you know that you can do whatever you need to. We can talk about it or not. As a family, we love you, and will never change. As your colleagues, you’ve done good work as always. This time it’s been particularly hard, but you got the job done.”