The Click

by Steve Shear

  As hard as the rain pounded against the windshield, his wipers were of little help. He could hardly make out someone with a weapon drawn coming toward him. It was Oedipus. At the same time, through his rearview mirror, he could barely see another VAMA thug jump out from a second hearse behind the SUV.

  Then came the amplified voice from within the SUV. “Looks like you’ve got nowhere to go, Oliver,” Rousseau chided. “Get out with your hands in the air.”

  With his right hand, Hitch grabbed his laser gun and a flare from the console next to him. With his left hand, he opened the driver-side door, partially. “Okay. I’m coming out. Please don’t shoot. I’m too old for this shit.”

  Using his left leg, he pushed the door open, ignited the flare, and tossed it onto the ground. It exploded into a flash, temporarily blinding both Oedipus and the other thug. They shot wildly into their blind spots, zing, zing. Red laser tracers ripped through the air. In the meantime, Hitch rolled over the console, pushed open the passenger door, and fired at the thug, who went down.

  He rolled back over the console as Oedipus raced around the other side and fell out of the driver’s door, spotting Rousseau hovering over the downed man. Seeing Hitch, she reached for the gun on the ground, but before she could get to it, he pounced on her. Oedipus fired, zing. Hitch took it in the upper left arm but held on to his own weapon in his right hand. From behind, he wrapped his wounded arm around Rousseau’s chest with his hand inside her jacket, pressing against her bare breast.

  He put his gun to her head. Blood from his arm trickled into her cleavage. Oedipus approached and demanded Hitchcock let her go.

  “There are two things that can happen here, dipshit,” Hitch said as the barrel of his gun pressed against Rousseau’s temple, as his left hand pressed tighter against her breast. “Either you pick up your buddy and take off, and don’t look back, or I put a large hole in the head of this very sexy lady.”

  “You don’t hav da ball,” Oedipus snarled back.

  “I say he does. Now do what he says,” Rousseau snapped.

  Hitchcock laughed. “See. Smart lady.”

  Oedipus hesitated, then dragged his wounded, semiconscious partner to his hearse. Hitch held Rousseau tight until Oedipus disappeared. Only then did he let her go. She spun around to face him and was greeted with a famous Oliver Hitchcock grin.

  “The last time I saw that smile, we were in bed together. Better days.”

  She stepped closer, pushed his gun aside, kissed him with passion, then stepped back and strolled to her SUV. Once there, she turned back around and with one finger stroked the bare part of her breast, wet with rain and Hitch’s blood. She then circled her mouth with the same finger, licked her lips with her tongue, and gestured for him to come close. He approached as excitement built within his loins. She kissed him passionately once again, then pushed him away.

  “Be careful.” With that, she climbed into her SUV and drove away as Hitch laughed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was well past the dinner hour when Elana Wu finally left Charlottesville for home in the outskirts of Georgetown. She gave Barnaby a hug good-bye and zipped away in her black Trident Racer. After swerving around the corner, she discovered a VAMA hearse tailing her. All the way through Virginia it followed close behind as she switched from one lane to another. At one point she swerved to the right and climbed up an exit ramp, successfully losing her tail, she thought. After travelling along several side streets paralleling the speedway she jumped back on and VAMA was waiting. “How in the…”

  Finally, somewhere just before her speedster reached the Potomac River, it disappeared. She took a deep breath and crossed the bridge into the District wondering what she was getting into. It seemed forever ago that she received her student visa, a challenging but straightforward feat with no complications. Her work visa after graduating number one in her class with a PhD was another matter, more like navigating the top edge of the of Great Wall from end to end on one foot. The Chinese government paid for her entire education and wanted their investment back—wanted her back—the deal she agreed upon and was comfortable with before her parents were killed, before she and Barnaby became so close. She kept requesting extensions on the grounds that what she was learning in her position at the university was invaluable. They would do anything to get her back, she thought, while periodically glancing in her rearview mirror and not seeing any signs of a tail. How long would she be able to stay, especially if she wound up doing battle with the Cūtocracy and VAMA?

  Less than fifteen minutes later, she dropped to the ground, rolled into her designated slot, 27A, and stepped out of the speedster. A VAMA hearse, maybe the same one, came to a screeching halt less than three feet away. Startled, she recoiled as Oedipus and a new partner jumped out and grabbed her. With one very large hand that smelled like a mixture of bacon lard and shrimp peels cupped around her mouth, she could do nothing but struggle in the arms of both men, who dragged her into the hearse and sped away.

  By the time she found herself sitting on a backless stool in a small room filled with all types of contraptions, her legs ached and her head sagged from exhaustion. A hot light shined down, like that in a dental office, practically blinding her to the strange face just inches away. The words kept echoing around her. What were you doing there, there, there? What did you talk about, about, about, about? How do you know Oliver Hitchcock, Cock, Cock, Cock? Why were the three of you meeting, eeting, eeting? She could hear herself respond. We’re all friends, friends, ends, ends. That’s all, all, all, all.

  Rousseau turned off the hot light and stepped back. “You’re lying!”

  Oedipus jumped in between them and gave Elana a backhand across the face with such force she fell to the floor, causing her glasses to fly.

  “Get up, bitch,” Rousseau demanded as she picked up Elana Wu’s glasses and threw them at her.

  Elana did as she was told, tasting the blood oozing from the edge of her mouth. When the room finally stopped spinning, she saw Oedipus hand Rousseau a transparent plastic bag filled with white powder. Rousseau dangled it in front of her, back and forth, back and forth, much like a hypnotist looking for answers. “Interesting. How did this high grade China White find its way under the carpet in your trunk?”

  “It’s not mine and you know it.”

  “Ah, but it is, and this little bag may just be your one-way ticket back to Shanghai.”

  “No one who knows me would believe that.”

  Rousseau laughed. “I’m sure you will be long gone before anyone who knows you is told. So tell me the truth! And wipe that hellish blood from your mouth.”

  Oedipus threw Elana a box of tissues.

  “I told you the truth,” Elana insisted as she pressed a tissue to her lips.

  “Hitchcock, Bloom, friends? You told me nothing. The three of you were conspiring to…”

  “Yes. We were conspiring to have a lovely day and evening. They played chess most of the day and I read.”

  Rousseau jumped back into Elana’s face. “Chess, my ass. Now, if you want to stay out of a Chink dungeon, tell me about your work and how Hitchcock is involved.”

  Elana tried her best to explain what it meant to be professor of immunology and her focus on recombinant DNA techniques, cell fusion, and bioprocessing techniques in hopes of boring Rousseau to death. She clearly avoided vaccination science and anything else that could be tied to the Click. She lost count of the number of times she had to repeat herself and continuously insisted her work had nothing to do with the ERAM-V vaccine.

  Finally Rousseau sat back, as if she were terminating the inquisition. The clock read 2:55 in the morning. Elana, weary and exhausted, yet defiant, fidgeted on the stool and glared at her. She may wind up back in Beijing but she was going to go with dignity.

  After that brief respite, Rousseau jumped from her chair. “One last time. What do you know about the ERAM-V vaccine?”

  “Again, about as much as I know about chess. Nothing.”<
br />
  Clearly frustrated, Rousseau grabbed Elana by the collar, yanked her across the room, slammed her against the wall, and looked over to Oedipus. “Drag the bitch downstairs.”

  Oedipus gripped Elana by the shoulder and led her to another room. He pushed a keypad on the wall, and a sliding door opened up to a downwardly spiraling staircase. He pushed her down the staircase to a series of empty dungeon cells and locked her in one of them.

  Clink! The small steel door, more like a child’s playhouse door or large doggie door, seemed to seal Elana’s fate. The only light snuck through the door’s small window, exposing a mattress sitting atop a wooden frame. She could barely see the cruddy toilet and sink in one corner. As she approached the mattress and saw how terribly soiled it was, she quickly turned to the toilet and vomited.

  Chapter Twenty

  All the time Oliver Hitchcock showered and shaved, Rousseau remained the focus of his attention—her bare breasts, thick lips, and his groin. He wiped the steam from the mirror and stared at his body, recalling her warning the last time they slept together. He wasn’t getting any younger, and he would return to her bed, or so she predicted. At the time, he believed her regardless of his declaration otherwise. But no longer, considering his promise to Edna, and his hookup with Barnaby. Rousseau was now an enemy he had to stay clear of. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from thinking about her in bed.

  After dressing and strolling into the kitchen prepared to boil some eggs, he realized there was little counter space left for such menial tasks. Stacks of printouts, news stories, and the like were everywhere except on the stove top and in the oven. He had to clean up. Besides, he was concerned that VAMA, which seemed to have set up an office out front, might decide to expand into his living space once again.

  It was that latter thought that prompted him to pull up the carpet across the fifth step on the stairway to the second level. He lifted the hardwood underneath exposing an elongated safe extending the width of the step. He pulled it out and pried open the board underneath, divulging a larger space spanning several steps, then placed there his more recent work product that might incriminate him.

  Once he finished that task and tidied the rest of the kitchen and his study, he was about to boil his eggs and brew some coffee when he heard his scud vibrating on the desk in the study.

  It was Barnaby. Elana Wu was missing. He was clearly upset and Hitch tried his best to calm him down.

  “Yes, it’s true. Sometimes, she does go off for days without calling but I’m worried nonetheless. I mean with all these VAMA cars that now…”

  “Barnaby, please, give it a couple of days. If she’s not in touch by then I’ll see what I can do.” While Hitch acted nonchalant, he was worried also, and for the same reason—those VAMA shits. He immediately thought of Julian. Surely, he would be able to find her if she was in their grasp.

  “All right, I guess,” Barnaby acquiesced. “But in the meantime, I think we need to talk. I have an appointment at American University tomorrow morning. Can I come by after that, say around eleven?”

  “No. I mean yes, eleven will work,” Hitch said. “But I have a better place to meet than my house,” he continued while poking his nose out a window and watching a VAMA hearse drive by.

  ****

  Among Oliver Hitchcock’s talents was his uncanny ability to shoot fast and accurately. That didn’t come naturally. He worked at it constantly, even after he retired from the Company. Just about every Thursday morning, he would spend at least an hour at the shooting range not terribly far from his house. However, in the last several months he only managed to make it there a couple of times and welcomed the chance to kill two birds with several zings of the trigger, so to speak.

  It took ten minutes to calm Barnaby down, after which Hitch showed off his skill firing at human shaped targets with his laser rifle. Zing-zing-zing. And with each zing, Barnaby flinched.

  “Enough!” Barnaby hollered out over the noise. “You can continue after I leave. For now, please tell me what you’re going to do about Elana?”

  He took off his earmuffs and so did Hitch.

  “I will have someone extremely reliable on it if she doesn’t call by tomorrow. I promise. Now, this Cause you said you wanted to talk about. What the hell is it?”

  Barnaby approached Hitch and took his rifle from him. Held it close, as if he were inspecting it then set it down on the bench close by. Hitch stared at Barnaby, then at his rifle. “Jesus, Barnaby, are you afraid I’m going to shoot you?”

  Barnaby laughed. “No, but I am afraid we haven’t been entirely candid with you.”

  “Not what I want to hear, my friend. My new friend. There’s too much at stake.”

  Barnaby shook his head. “We had to be careful. I apologize.”

  Hitch picked up his rifle and without earmuffs approached the target line. Zing-zing-zing-zing. “I don’t have time for any bullshit, Barnaby. My grandson doesn’t have time.”

  Barnaby sat down on the bench and motioned for Oliver to join him. “The Cause goes back three generations to my mother and father and his father, my grandfather, all enemies of the Cūtocracy. Today, we are over 100,000 strong worldwide.”

  “What? Who?” Oliver Hitchcock started to sit next to Barnaby but changed his mind. He thought better on his feet.

  Barnaby stared at Hitch for a moment, as if he were not sure he wanted to confide in him, and that was seriously aggravating.

  “Barnaby, this is no time for gamesmanship, not with my grandson’s life at stake and Elana Wu who knows where.

  Barnaby nodded. “The who are anonymous men and women, and the what is their conviction that the Click is the Cūtocracy’s fraud on humanity.”

  Hitch stared at his new friend and was about to respond. Zing-zing exploded from a stranger who had just begun shooting two lanes over. This time he flinched. “Wait! You’re saying you believe the Cūtocracy is responsible for the Click?” Hitch whispered even though the stranger had earmuffs on.

  “Believe? I’m saying it’s a fact. They hid it within the ERAM-V vaccine in order to control population growth ever since the Ecclesian Church insisted on outlawing abortions and birth control way back when. That was their quid pro quo.”

  Hitchcock turned his back on Barnaby and froze as he observed the stranger zero in on the enemy. Zing-zing-zing. The sign flashed ‘Enemy Eliminated’ in bright yellow. It’s one thing to believe the worst, another to know it’s true, he thought, and tried to shake it off. Finally, his attention turned back to Barnaby. “So, where does Elana fit into all of this?”

  “Coming up with the antidote and a Clickless vaccine. She’s our only hope. She’s the only one with the knowledge and intellect to put it all together.”

  Hitch shook his head in disbelief. “Really? And what do you want from me?”

  “Blood, unvaccinated blood. Elana will need lots of it.”

  “Unvaccinated blood?”

  “For the antidote. We need lots of unvaccinated blood. We’ve been scouring the Earth with no real luck. For every person we have in the field searching, VAMA has dozens vaccinating the masses.”

  “So this is all about…”

  “Mr. Nagasi, and India. Elana’s bit of blue sky. And yours too, Oliver.”

  Hitch shook his head. “You really believe he’s for real? Nagasi?”

  “You’re the expert. That’s for you to determine.”

  Without much hesitation on his part, Hitch agreed to return to Mumbai, but first wanted to know everything about the Cause, not merely what amounted to an elevator speech.

  “Well, that calls for sustenance,” Barnaby suggested, and the oldest and newest living members of the Cause walked across the street to a café at the corner and dined on duck salad and discussion. After giving Oliver even more than he had asked for about the Cause, he reminded his new charge that Elana must be found.

  Several hours later, Hitch stood on his back deck taking in the rising mist over the Potomac, punching in nu
mbers on his scud. “Julian…”

  Once satisfied that Julian was now in the loop and up to speed, Hitch disconnected but remained within the shroud of mist that now surrounded him. He had decided not to mention Elana Wu or that she was missing, at least not then. She’s probably off on her own, he thought. No point complicating a situation already fraught with complications.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Oliver Hitchcock was once again at Regis on his way to Mumbai. With Kathy and a cranky Christopher on either side, the three stepped off the people mover just ahead of Security. Christopher offered one hand to his grandfather but stared off to the side. Hitch stooped down to hug him, and with a turn of the head, he brought Christopher into eye contact, then smiled and kissed his grandson’s tightened brow. Disappointed, he looked up at Kathy hoping to evoke some kind of sympathy. He received none.

  They hugged without words, then he headed toward Security. As a second thought, he turned back and watched them disappear in the crowd, the only family he had left. Hitch turned back and seconds later reached an agent who stamped his papers and inspected his carryon luggage. After receiving a nod from the agent, he stepped up to one of many eye/hand scanners where all five fingers and both eyes were analyzed. His picture and name appeared on a monitor above the apparatus. A gate automatically opened.

  The area around Gate C27 to Mumbai buzzed with excitement as passengers began boarding. Hitch stood under the TV watching Dillon Burber’s press conference when his scud rang. After edging away from the TV and the crowd, he picked up the call. It was Kathy. He clicked her onto screen-view mode and immediately saw the fear in her eyes.

  “On the way out he heard it, Dad. What am I supposed to tell him?” she whispered. “And his V-Mark, it’s much bluer and blacker. Dad, my God. Ninety days! That’s how much time Mother had.”