by Julian Folk
“Nikki.” Jan’s voice.
“Hey Nik.” Jimmy’s voice.
“Hell-oooo, Nikki.” Melody’s voice.
Her elbow stabs Nikki’s triceps.
She whips back to awareness. Afraid she was talking to herself. Her mouth was agape so long it’s dry now.
“What it is?” she asks.
“We need you to put your thinking cap on, Nikki,” Jimmy says.
“Why?”
She sounds so snotty.
“Went blind in my right eye,” he says and chuckles and snorts. “Ain’t that a trip?”
Nikki musters the ugliest fake smile in her repertoire. “How long?” she asks.
“About a minute,” he says. “You’d zoned out.”
“Didn’t you say it happened before, Jimmy?” Jan asks.
Nikki gulps her coffee.
“Oh, about once a day for the past month,” he says.
Nikki WHALE-SPOUTS her coffee all over the breakfast table. The percussive force of the spout impacts everyone. She feels no shame.
Jan smacks the table as she laughs. The boys, completing a puzzle on the floor, sip their juice boxes and whale-spout their juice on one another.
The ugly fake smile resumes on Nikki’s face. She wallops them when the laughter dies down: “Pack your bags, Jimmy. We’re going to the hospital.”
She pours another cup of coffee. No way Grandpa dies in the cabin on her watch. Not after Robert’s sacrifice.
“I’ll need a cigarette for the road,” Jimmy says.
Really?
His obliviousness to the comedic value of that statement forces Nikki to whale-spout her coffee again.
“Guess if you’re already strokin’ out it don’t matter if you smoke another,” Jan says, coffee spatter in her hair.
Since Grandpa might die on the way there, on the operating table, or when Vincent locates them, Jan tags along, holds Jimmy’s hand.
“If it appears you’ll be captured,” Nikki says, “I’ll shoot you. To protect Melody and the kids.”
No one objects.
Jan worked thirty-five years as a nurse. According to Robert, she hated the job but she was the best damn nurse on the floor. Jimmy’s diagnosis is obvious to Nikki and Jan: lack of blood flow resulting in partial blindness; likely culprit is a clogged carotid. This grandpa’s a sure bet to stroke out soon.
Hourlong drive to the hospital. Nikki’s heavy foot saves fifteen minutes. She informs the admissions nurse of Jimmy’s symptoms. They don’t wait for her to stop talking. They dump Jimmy onto a bed, stick him and let the Cumedin flow. He refuses to use a fake ID and writes his real name on the admissions papers. The doctor schedules a Doppler.
Nikki barely has time to pee.
The vascular surgeon strolls in and regards the patient’s exposed neck as a birthday gift begging to be violently unwrapped: “Test shows a ninety-nine percent blockage, Jimmy. I’m going to fillet your carotid like a fish, scoop out the sludge and tape it back together. Oh, and when you’re craving a cigarette, look in the mirror. You’ll see a six inch scar.”
In the hospital cafeteria, Nikki eats a meal of cheeseburgers, fries and chocolate chip cookies and chases it with a large Diet Coke, refilled once. Just like Jan’s cabin cooking. The phone vibrates.
Jasper.
“I hear Pappa Yard took one drag too many,” he says.
Your tone wears thin.
“I like these people,” she says. “I wish my family was like them.”
“Oh, me too, Nikki. My family was a horror show. Father beat anything in range of his switch. Once I heard him whipping flesh fiercely. Having assumed it was one of my brothers on Father’s knee, I aimed the shotgun at him. My intention was to pull the trigger and free my brother. But there was Father, tearing apart his own thigh.”
She’s not leaving the Yard family yet…
“I sent a good woman to fill your post, Nikki,” he says, “a youngster from the team that located you folks just now. Her name is Siya. She will protect and supervise Mr. and Mrs. Yard. This new team is the finest I’ve put together—and I was there at the founding of OSS in 1942. I hear the surgeon operating on Mr. Yard is a leader in the region. Also, I sent green agents to relocate Robert’s wife and kids.”
“What about Connor and Ayelet?”
“Oh, good news, Nikki. Our plan worked. They were caught in a conjugal act. The dishwasher at Cracker Barrel recorded the incident and uploaded video to Reddit. Vincent and his wife, Maisie, found the video and intercepted Mr. Yard and Miss Martin at their destination. It turns out Vincent had a liaison with Miss Martin, posing as a ‘Marcello.’ Now he claims to be the baby’s father.”
Nikki is aghast.
“I know you’re cringing, Nikki. Trust me, I am, too. And I’ve seen a lot in my life. Vincent seduced Ayelet by fraud. He persuaded Miss Martin’s parents, Val and Jeff, of the lie that Connor kidnapped Ayelet and sexually abused her. Vincent hacked police servers and forged a warrant for Connor’s arrest.”
“Why don’t you send a SWAT team to stop Vincent?”
“That maniac will kill Ayelet, her parents and anyone who opposes him.”
“Don’t you have an asset in the area?”
“About three hours away.”
Oh…
“Your credentials are in order, Nikki,” he says. “Today, you’re a psychiatrist, Dr. Watercourse. Vincent and Maisie already know you’re one of mine.”
“So, you ran them directly…”
“They are geniuses, Nikki. Maisie more than Vincent. They devised the most effective terrorist fighting program imaginable. Our nation owes them a debt it can never repay. But we need not suffer their antics any longer, now that the Program is up and running.”
“But this is—”
“The Way, Nikki. Go to the hospital. Gain the trust of the parties. Evacuate Ayelet and the infant. Kill Vincent and Maisie. They’re constitutionally incapable of stopping. Their persistence is responsible for the Program’s existence in the first place.”
On fire, Nikki hangs up the phone. Jasper is a shit. He’s surely planning her elimination. But the opportunity to right every wrong has fallen into her lap.
When the agent, Siya, arrives, Nikki assesses her, deems her as trustworthy as you could ask for, perhaps an upgrade in effectiveness, and introduces her to Jan, and Jimmy, who is minutes from surgery.
Robert’s dad could die on the table but Nikki has to go.
She drives 220 miles to Boston, daydreaming of going cannibal on Vincent’s cock and snapping Jasper’s neck with her feet.
She’s the pawn that kills the chess master.
Chapter 24
Boston
Maisie seeks a bathroom, leaving Ayelet unsupervised, alone in the company of a mullet-headed nurse, Lucy. Lucy apologizes, in a smoker’s rasp, for each prick and squeeze. Ayelet didn’t foresee such an opportunity. So she kindles a conversation with the nurse, a mother of three boys, like Melody.
Ayelet doubts Lucy is one of Jasper’s people. She doubts Vincent corrupted the nurse’s mind yet. Lucy treats her like any other patient.
Ayelet needs to build a bond with Lucy. She needs a health care professional on her side. Vincent has no intention of letting Ayelet be a mother to her baby.
She loses track of the medical stuff Lucy tells her and simply nods and watches the hallway through the glass. A South Asian-descended man, whose big bones and wide shoulders stretch out his blue scrubs, glides to the door.
“Lucy, is that man the doctor?” Ayelet asks.
“Oh, yes, Dr. Noon,” the nurse says. “Your lucky day. All the moms-to-be request him.”
Dr. Noon extends his hand, grabs the doorknob and turns it.
But Vincent leaps into view, inserts himself between the door and Dr. Noon, places his hand on Dr. Noon’s shoulder, mutters something, guides Dr. Noon to the side and fires a nasty split-second sneer at Ayelet.
Her heart hollows out.
The doctor lis
tens to Vincent. He nods periodically, thumb and index finger glued to his chin. The expression shows Great Concern. Maisie, Val and Jeff join them in a huddle. They’re filling his head full of lies. Dr. Noon glances at Ayelet, then Lucy, and taps on the glass, summoning the nurse.
Now even Ayelet’s doctor thinks Connor kidnapped and assaulted her, the baby is Vincent’s, and she’s delusional.
Minutes pass at the pace of seasons.
Male nurses waltz in. Buff, hunky, happy to be here. They look like BU students she used to meet in clubs. Those guys bought her drinks. These guys carry restraints in their fists.
“Hey, Number One Best-Selling Author,” the nurse to her left says. Dark wavy hair, five o’clock shadow. “I’m Ryan. I love your books. This is Will. We’re just gonna help you stay in one place during the delivery.”
If Ayelet resists, the doctor and nurses’ll be even more skittish around her, imperiling Connor Jr.’s health.
She surrenders. They bind her wrists. Leather restraints, foam padding. She concentrates attention on the nurses’ gleaming teeth. It blocks out panicky thoughts. To bind her ankles, they spread her legs wide. Ayelet expresses gratitude to the universe because she took the time to shave at the cabin.
But Connor Jr.’s had enough.
He makes a mad rush for the exit.
“Oh gosh…”
The doctor looms. Introduces himself as Feroz Khan Noon. A tower of blue scrubs and acute anxiety. He swoops down to Ayelet’s ear and whispers, “Don’t worry. Security is on alert. We won’t let him hurt you here.”
“Which one?” she asks.
He nods toward the hallway.
He knows.
Could it be?
Unless he’s telling a delusional patient what she’d like to hear…
Dr. Noon delves inside and Ayelet shrieks.
Baby vacates the womb in quiet contemplation of his surroundings.
“His name is Connor Jr,” Ayelet says.
Dr. Noon counts fingers and toes and pronounces “Vincent Jr.” healthy. Lucy measures and weighs him. She exhibits the nine pounds of helpless silence, refers to him as “your baby,” but won’t rest him on Ayelet.
Putting him on the mother’s chest is standard practice; Ayelet read it on the Internet.
To get them to put Connor Jr. on her, she’ll ask first for something they won’t do.
“Um, will you untie me and let me hold him?”
Lucy looks at Dr. Noon, who shakes his head. “Sorry,” Lucy says.
“Will you put him on my chest?”
The doctor nods and slips away. He speaks to Vincent outside. To mirror the psychopath, Dr. Noon dons a mask of ultra-seriousness. They shake and part ways.
Maybe he does believe me but he’s a coward.
Vincent lays siege:
“Welcome to this beautiful world, Vincent Jr.”
The release of birthing the baby relaxes Ayelet’s caution. Despite her vulnerability and Connor Jr.’s. Giving birth induced a shift in her brain chemistry. The shift feels impossible to override.
“Kick Vincent’s steroid ass out of here, Lucy,” Ayelet says.
Vincent thieves the baby from Ayelet’s chest, kisses his forehead.
“Kick this fucking psycho mass murderer out of here, Lucy.”
Ambivalence freezes the nurse.
Vincent waves to Maisie in the hallway. Maisie shouts, “Dr. Noon, come back!”
He rushes to the room. Forehead sweating. His job was to convey Connor Jr. from Point A, the womb, to Point B, his hands. Nothing more.
Maisie busts in after the obstetrician:
“Oh Vincent Jr. is keee-yoooot, A. We’re gonna be the best mommies ever!”
Dr. Noon asks Vincent, “The psychosis is…?”
“Worse,” Vincent says.
Hatred germinates in Ayelet’s narcotized exhaustion:
“Doctor Noon, Vincent is a married psycho who seduced me by fraud, when I was already married, and Maisie is his wife. They have possession of my baby right now. They’re naming him against his mother’s will. I am tied to the bed in a ridiculous BDSM setup. Does something not add up here?”
“There’s a new psychiatrist on staff,” Dr. Noon says. “She comes highly recommended. I’m paging her right now.”
Someone give Ayelet the strength to curb her recklessness—
“Doctor Noon, have you ever encountered a situation like this?” she asks. “Look into Vincent’s eyes.”
“The psychiatrist will administer something to calm you down.” He gestures to Lucy to follow him. Vacating the room, they give the speed of light a run for its money.
Anticipating a knockout drug in her IV, Ayelet waits. No one comes.
Maisie reads a text and reacts with mild disappointment.
Vincent encroaches on Ayelet’s bedside. “I’ll put our son on your fat tits again.” Baby swims on Ayelet’s left breast. Gazes dumbly at his mother. With Connor’s blue eyes. “We’ll let you nurse once, Mommy,” he says. “A symbolic thing. Before they give you the anti-psych meds. I won’t let you expose my son to heavy duty meds through breast milk.”
Maisie hands the phone to Vincent. The words he reads sadden him. “Sorry. Guess we won’t be letting Mommy nurse. Fuckin’ shame.”
A new doctor enters. Tall, confident, gorgeous. Touting a leaky injection. Exuberant at the sight of Vincent.
Nikki in scrubs.
Maisie relieves Ayelet’s breast of the baby. Connor Jr. sucks on the air a moment. He dissolves in a fit.
Nikki introduces herself as “Dr. Watercourse” and asks to be called by her first name.
“I’m so pleased to meet you, Vincent and Maisie,” Nikki says. “Jasper’s spoken so highly of you. You’re heroes. We owe you a debt.”
The affection in Nikki’s voice rings true. Pride suffuses her face and posture. Pride in Vincent, Maisie, Jasper and their service to the country. Pride that disdains people who fail to appreciate the importance of such service.
Nikki shines her prideful gaze on Baby.
“I’m so pleased to meet you, too, Vincent Jr.,” she says in a baby voice that spikes Ayelet’s blood pressure, setting off an alarm. “Mommy has a boo boo in her head. She’s not herself. Watch my medicine help her.”
Nikki injects the IV bag and blows a kiss Ayelet’s way.
“Time to get with the program, bitch,” the fake doctor says.
The word “bitch” offends Maisie:
“I still believe Ayelet’s cool underneath the illness. Trust me, Nikki. I know her. I’ve studied her for years. Once the Program eliminates her abuser…”
Vincent subtly shakes his head. Nikki catches it. So does Ayelet. Maisie doesn’t. When he gets his chance, Vincent’ll kill this new mom and call it an accident.
“I hope you’re right, Maisie,” Nikki says.
“What’s the status of the family and the parents?” Vincent asks. “Jasper’s not answering on that.”
“Jim Yard died under the knife,” Nikki says. “Failed carotid endarterectomy. Expect Jan Yard’s replacement heart valve to fail any minute now. As for Melody Yard and her sons, we negotiated with a patron in Hungary. He paid a significant fee to dispose of them as he pleases. The deal allows Jasper to hire a half dozen young, top caliber employees. So we should watch our backs!”
Wooziness.
No. Ayelet’s father-in-law’s not dead. No.
The drug Nikki injected circulates in the bloodstream at increasing concentrations. Not a knockout drug. But a fadeout drug. Endorphins party everywhere in Ayelet’s body.
A patron in Hungary.
“Hungary?” Vincent asks, cheeky. “What is it, horror-movie shit?”
“Don’t ask,” Nikki says.
Silent and sulky, Maisie folds her arms under her chest and looks away.
“Maybe you’d like a drink of water, Maze,” Vincent says.
Maisie takes the hint.
Nikki and Vincent size each other up. She bounces
a strong psychopathic vibe his way and he returns it. Her eyes bounce back the insane seriousness of his. She makes him feel exactly what he craves to feel.
“Jasper says no homicides at the hospital,” Nikki says. “So Mommy will contract an infection. A real infection. Baby will appear to contract an infection. Mommy dies, Baby survives.”
Vincent flashes his orgasm face.
“I couldn’t have drawn it up neater myself,” he says. “To tell you the truth, Nikki, I got so emotionally involved in this, I had no exit strategy.”
“Nobody’s above that,” she says.
The confidence Ayelet hears in Nikki’s words chills her to the bone. The spectrum of Ayelet’s consciousness shrinks. She disappears from her own world.
Chapter 25
Officer Rice muffles Connor’s screams.
In the decade-and-a-half since he split Connor’s skull, the man’s grown even more imposing. Bigger head and broader torso. Stronger hands and fouler odor. Greater desire to break bones, tear muscles, extinguish the life force.
Memories intrude on Connor. They violate his consciousness. Coerce him to relive the night of the St. Catherine of Siena Annual Summer Fest.
When Officer Rice lifted Connor’s spindly body inches off the ground and flung it against the brick facade of Barclay’s bank. When Connor rose to his knees, and Officer Rice kicked him in the gut and the kid fell down face first. When Officer Rice brandished his baton and said “This is the kindest thing I ever did” and the lights went out.
When Officer Rice called an ambulance and blamed the attack on “a posse of young black teenagers” he had tracked at the festival. When police interviewed eyewitnesses and informed them their accounts were wrong. When, ignoring the union’s protests, the county reassigned the rogue cop to desk work.
Like Vincent’s madness, Officer Rice’s madness fermented this whole time.
The fermented madness exudes from the angry father’s eyes. He wants to maul Connor’s face. Yet the man manages to unblock Connor’s mouth and backs away.
“I’m not supposed to touch you, kid,” he says and spits on Connor’s forehead, “but you kidnapped a woman. You verbally abused her. You sexually assaulted her. That is despicable behavior. You would know that if your white trash parents taught you morals. But they didn’t. Ignorate Jimmy and stupit fuckin’ Jan neglected their responsibilities. So I’m gonna be your daddy today, Connor, and you’re gonna be my son. I’m gonna teach you right from wrong.