by Estes, Danny
“Of what?” Randolph picked up an account card, tapping in the twenty six digit code to allow him access to its total funds.
“The color of this wall design. Don’t you think it would look nice in our den?”
To the word ‘our’, Randolph lost his sequence then looked skyward for patience. “Jill, aren’t you being a little premature? It’ll take months before I’ll be ready to move on Mr. Hilden, after which we’ll decide if we’ll stay together.” He tried the pin code again, but Jill shifted her position, dropping her magazine and sitting up so her back was to him. To the distinct sound of sniffling, Randolph lost his cool and his place a second time. Of all the— “What’s the matter?”
“I want a family, John,” Jill’s softer side said with sorrow in her voice as her shoulders shook. “Jill promised I could have my family once she’d established her carrier and to that end I’ve given up ten years of my life.” Jill raised her chin and used her arm to wipe her face, saying with some heat, “Now because of her cold-hearted ways we’re condemned to death should the court system catch up to us, which is really only a matter of time.” She turned some so he could see her profile. “I don’t want to die, John! I want my time in the sun. I want a home, children and—and a husband! And that husband has to be you!” Jill stood and cleared her eyes once again before she turned fully to him. “You know exactly who and what we are. With you there’ll never be inquiries into our past. John, please, I’m begging you. I do love you and I want your children, our children. Please don’t push me aside, I’ll be good to you, I’ll—I’ll—”
To his blank stare, she began balling in earnest and ran for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Still confused, Randolph held no idea what to say or do. He even felt like a heel, though he’d done nothing wrong. Then the bathroom door jerked open and Jill came out, striding his way with murder in her eyes! Randolph knew full well who was in control, and remembering the last time she looked at him in that way, Randolph panicked and held his hands up in submission, trying to get his throat working while backing up.
But he received a right cross before he could, sending him into the bedside table, to which Jill growled just below a yell, “What did you do to her?”
“Ow! Jill, I did nothing!” Randolph declared in innocence.
Back handing him next to keep him in the corner, Jill snarled, “What did you do? I can’t even feel her in the back of my mind!”
“Honestly, I didn’t even touch her!” Randolph looked into cold and deadly eyes which he desperately wanted to calm before he became her punching bag. “In fact, you should know that; I thought you told me you two talk to each other.”
She folded her arms instead of abusing his face more then turned around, taking a couple of steps away. “It doesn’t work that way. I get glimpses like pictures now and again while she’s in control if she allows it, then a video of all that’s happened when we change places, but this time I fell in control without a single thought!”
Randolph ran the back of his hand against his stinging mouth, tasting iron saltiness in his mouth, and come away with blood, grimacing to the pain. Jill looked back on him, sighing with annoyance; she walked over as Randolph tried to meld back into the wall holding his hands up in capitulation.
“Oh, quite acting like a baby,” she accused, picking up a tissue box on the way and handing it to him. “I didn’t hit you that hard. Now take this and sit down, I want to know what you two talked about.”
“Sure, if you’ll move to the other side of the bed,” Randolph said, still trying to protect himself.
“For crying out loud, Randolph, I’m not going to hit you again. I’m now in complete control of myself.”
“Well, I’m not saying anything till you do,” Randolph argued, dabbing lightly on his split lip.
“All right! Fine!” Jill snapped in exasperation, throwing her hands in the air.
Once Jill settled on the far corner of the bed, Randolph began his recital of her softer side’s words and feeling, being a bit cruel in tone, holding nothing of that conversation back.
Jill turned her back to him and faced the room’s entrance, making no sound or comment. Standing after a bit, she straightened her shoulders, thanked him for being truthful, and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?”
As the door closed behind her, she said with just a hint of emotion, “I’m going for a walk.”
Once he heard her footsteps recede along the outside hallway, Randolph was able to sigh and relax, though now for some reason he felt like a total heel. He grumbled, and reminded himself Jill was a big girl now and if she had half the report with her other side, his news was no revelation. So as he had tons of work to start, Randolph called room service for medical supplies, hot tea, a turkey sandwich and picked up the old standby stationary tools the hotels always supplied to make a list of common items he’d need to begin his newest and possibly last adventure into the world of documentation, security measures, and credit accounts.
After verifying he held ten thousand credits in his own account, Randolph authorized payment for the room with an extra 300 credits to draw on from the hotel for incidental living expenses. Then it was off to the local electronic building for a mobile computer and the few things he’d written down to occupy his time while he thought out minor details during the intervals between his search programs and finding a suitable place to set up shop. When he returned to their shared hotel room with the required equipment, Randolph’s mind had already categorized possible avenues of basic surveillance he considered Jill to be perfect for, and only remotely noticed she hadn’t returned from her walk. With a glance about the room, Randolph shrugged her out of his thoughts, and set up his equipment on the provided table, hard wired the computer to the net, then cracked his fingers out of habit before he let fly his fingers, as his mind settled in on this grand adventure.
When Randolph sat back in the cheap upholstered chair to rest his eyes and roll his neck about, he took notice of the time. 1:00 a.m. and Jill isn’t back yet? He stood to stretch his legs and open a window to take in somewhat fresher air and had a moment of guilt roll around in his mind. Surely she wouldn’t have taken off for such a minor argument? A bit painful yes, but—
Letting his thoughts drift, parking his butt on the windowsill, Randolph absently activated the video screen and flipped to the local news. He looked out over the neon-lit city as the broadcast rambled about the day’s news. Having only a few credits on her, she couldn’t have gone far, but then again she did survive for years without me. As his stomach complained of malnutrition, Randolph decided to try room service and finding it still open even at this time of night, ordered up a snack platter of cold cuts and cheese along with a light beer before sitting back down to reason further; he could do nothing till she showed up. With his conscience settled, Randolph tapped on the keys to read up on any latest advances in computer technology, thus his attention was diverted when his ears picked up part of a news story of a woman trashing a local bar.
Quickly turning his head to the video screen, he saw the smartly-dressed woman behind the news desk saying, “As details become known, we’ll update this story at the top of the hour. Next up, why is city hall so desperate to—”
Tuning out the video, Randolph raced his fingers across the keyboard to search out any reference to the news broadcast. While his search program popped up with the most likely articles he sought, Randolph hoped his concerns were wrong. But when the video came up, and there on the top of the list was Jill’s picture, Randolph’s heart took a flying leap into the well of guilt. With a sense of dread, Randolph punched up the article and listened to the news broadcast.
“It was a chaotic scene today as violence broke out in a midtown bar. After interviewing police officials, had this to say.”
The camera trained on a uniformed police officer. “This unidentified woman,” he said to Jill’s face posted to the left side of the screen, “having had
far too much to drink, began a brawl, leaving customers to run for cover. At present we’re still gathering evidence at the scene which can be used in a court of law.”
The scene changed and a smartly-dressed fellow filled out the remainder of the story as Randolph sat back heavily in his chair, his mouth dropping wide open.
“As this had been reported some hours ago, we now have fuller details on this incredible story through our public relations liaison, Lieutenant Morison. Lieutenant Morison,” asked the anchorman of a hard-nosed man in his fifties, “can you now elaborate more on this unidentified woman?”
“Yes I can, Mr. Taller. As your viewers learned earlier, an unidentified woman in her early thirties, with obvious combat training, set about wreaking havoc in a local bar. She is currently incarcerated in the downtown public enforcement building on charges ranging from inciting to riot, property damage, assault and resisting arrest. Presently, as she has yet to give a name, we are running a DNA test to gain her identity for official documentation and booking. In the mean time, we are asking your viewers if anyone happens to know this woman, please come forward to help us sort out her reasons for such a destructive display.”
Randolph mechanically turned off the video report and rubbed his face, over whelmed with anger and hopelessness. A DNA report will take 24 hours as long as no deaths were reported, and depending on the work load at the facility, that could push the results back a few hours but no more, and I can’t count on that. With a glance Randolph saw it was now 2 a.m., and she’d been picked up around 5 p.m.; this left him with less than a day to figure out what he should or could do. Once they get the results, it will be a simple thing to put her in the computer and discover exactly who they have on hand. If only she’d carried her ID or gave them her new name, that would have given me more time to investigate what options are available. Now by afternoon, regardless of what she or I tell the police, the DNA report will be in, and in a matter of hours Jill will be picked up by the military for completion of her execution. Not liking the time crunch, Randolph drummed his fingers on the table, trying to reboot his brain for what by necessity would be a fast and dirty job.
He hit the escape key and dumped all current programs to type out possible scenarios. Not holding at bay his imagination, Randolph created even the most ridiculous ploys, and developed ten choices in minutes. Next came common devices he’d need, programs, tools, IDs, vehicles and clothing. Strapped for time, Randolph accessed the nearby electronic store by net and placed an order for the required equipment, adding in a large tip in order to guaranty prompt delivery. Then came the accessibility of vehicles, clothes and incidentals which made any job look just that bit more legitimate. Next came forging prescriptions for the pain killers he’d need for resupplying his arms with tools and down loaded this to an all night pharmacy with credentials of a the medical doctor he’d done a job for. After which, sitting back in the chair with over-tired eyes, Randolph ignored how many hours he’d been working. He ordered up additional sandwich supplies to add to his plate of cold cuts and cheese, which he knew would help energize his lagging energizes and took a long hot shower.
After finishing his meal, Randolph looked over the last of his inbound packages, and set to work unpacking, arranging, familiarizing, setting up, plugging in and all the other necessary acts before he truly could buckle down and weed out by availability his options for carrying out the possible campaigns open to him. By 6 a.m. Randolph chose his path, set appropriate tools in his arms, and dummied up fake IDs in the name of a military colonel who fit his body description; that should withstand normal inquiries, as long as they failed to require a retina scan for Jill’s release. With all this accomplished, Randolph yawned deeply, stretched, and reasoned he could catch two hours’ sleep before places he needed to visit opened for another business day.
Dressed and checked out of the hotel, Randolph dropped off all the unusable equipment at a handicap facility, making a bee-line to his first acquisition. Three hours later, with a rented vehicle loaded with military police clothes and acquired equipment, Randolph was waiting in the law offices of a local documentation attorney for the weasel behind the desk to down load his credits for a private viewing of documents he’d need to pull the job off. After paying the exorbitant fees, Randolph was escorted with a fake smile to a private booth, where he proceeded to hack into the system to over write its security measures and bring up Colonel Anderson’s files for printing out with only slight detail changes, like his video picture and hair color. Next came legal wording which would get Jill released into his custody and orders to transport her over state lines. Next came introduction orders to the local military base with added orders for the colonel in charge of the military police to aid in his assignment. Carefully comparing his drafts to real orders on file in public records, Randolph polished them up and printed them out. After he received the required stamps, for a fee, Randolph slipped them into his briefcase and proceeded to his next goal. By 1:15 p.m. Randolph held a valid ID and driving credentials; by 2:30 he’d lifted a bag and seating tickets form an incoming flight to add to his ensemble and rented a vehicle suited to his new position.
A little past 5 p.m., coming to a rest in the visitors parking space in the underground structure, the no-nonsense corporal in the passenger front seat got out and opened Randolph’s door. Once on the concrete floor, Randolph straightened out his hip equipment, and started moving with his two man escort, for the double door entrance into the police building. Thus far all is working as planned; now if I can keep up this facade of a hard-nosed colonel, he reminded himself as he walked into the lion’s den to extract Jill from the jaws of justice. With luck, we’ll both be lost in the city after disembarking the atmosphere skimmer I’ve already booked, dressed like any other low-level corporate manager and secretary. Head held at an arrogant level, Randolph passed uniformed officers on all sides as he and his men entered the building, while he mentally hoped his deodorant held up its promise. He was jumpy as hell on the inside, like a bright fledgling chef offering up his best dish to the city’s most acclaimed food critic. And in a way, that’s exactly what he was doing, save he hadn’t the time to properly prepare his dish for this display. With a wish he could adjust the itchy military collar, Randolph folded his hands behind his back to keep them from showing his anxiety and allowed the two corporals to escort him deeper into the lion’s maw, hoping no one would look past the uniform to place his wanted photo over his face. Still rigid, though trying as hell to look relaxed, Randolph rode the elevator to the twentieth floor, then walked past cubicles not un-similar to any corporate operation until he arrived at his destination. He allowed his subordinate to knock before opening the door and then entered the master lion’s den.
Regardless of knowing everything could go wrong, Randolph knew now was not a time of worrying, and reestablished his airs of superiority to walk up to the man in charge, extending his hand to the captain as the man stood. “Captain Russell,” Randolph began, projecting his voice to sound hard as plastic-steel, “My name is Colonel Don Van Hasting of the military police.”
“Colonel,” the captain acknowledged, clasping Randolph’s hand with strength, “what can I do for you?”
“I’m here on a matter of some embarrassment. Apparently a woman by the name of Major Jill Wander somehow survived her execution and vanished from our mortuary.” After receiving his hand back, Randolph extracted the documentation he’d made from his briefcase and handed it over. “I’m here to correct that mistake by escorting the major back for completion of her sentence.”
“I see,” Captain Russell said, receiving all the legal papers and motioning Randolph to the chair in front of his desk while he read through the ten sheets of legal wording which could have been reduced to half a sheet if it weren’t for all the “whereas, first party, second party,” and countless other double talk words used to make the legal system near impossible for normal people to understand.
With his fat in the oven now, Ra
ndolph sat down stiffly before Captain Russell, and crossed his legs, trying to look comfortable, though every neuron in his brain was screaming for him to take the first emergency exit out. Although he’d done stunts like this before in commerce buildings, Randolph never imagined such a stunt where he sat in a building filled with hundreds of law officers while using two military trained police grunts as an escort. I hope if there’s such a thing as gods of audacity, they were paying attention to my exploits this very day. Damn, my antiperspirant had better live up to its guaranty. And if it does, I’m buying stock in the company.
“Mmm…” Captain Russell responded in his chair, apparently reading every word on every page Randolph had handed over; what he’d created in hours, what should have taken days. “Colonel, could you clarify something for me?” Captain Russell asked, eying Randolph over the papers. “According to our files, we only identified Miss Wander two hours ago, so how is it you’ve had time to cut these legal documents and arrive here from Fort Chasing in that short of time?”
Not having his entire story intact, Randolph began slowly. “As with any good organization, we keep tabs on all local and foreign news videos. When the major’s picture hit the news cast, our facial recognition program tagged her face with military records. Once done, my office was notified and the appropriate orders cut.”
“But what if she turns out to be just someone who has a striking resemblance to this woman?”
So far so good, he’s asking only reasonable inquires, Randolph thought. “A plausible outcome, Captain, and if that were true you’d be showing me the results in which I’d apologize for taking up your time and be on my way. However, as you haven’t, after I returned her to our base, she’ll undergo some intense identifying procedures and interrogation before her sentence is carried out.”