by L. M. Vila
Thankfully, the elevator awaited their arrival. Kurtis hit the button and they both stepped in. He tapped the button for the lobby and the machine began its decent. Perfect time for idle chit chat. Maybe find out what this girl is really made of.
“So, do you kill with your looks or is it just for decoration?” Kurtis did not like the way his English sounded. It was so formal and robotic. He should have practiced it more. Then again, he's only been in the country for a couple of months.
No response from Seika. This would have annoyed Kurtis but it wasn't like she was disobeying any orders. He thought to try again, this time digging a little deeper under her silky white skin. “Your business is probably not as successful as the General would have liked me to believe. Otherwise I would have heard of you. And at least felt a little impressed.”
Still nothing. He needed to dig the claws in deeper. Time to go for a knockout punch. A sigh escaped before he let out the next statement. “I guess you are pretty good. Seeing that your brother was the one who died.”
“Listen here,” Seika barked as her deadly stare caught his eyes. Her voice was as cold as her expression. “The only thing I have left to live for is to watch Michael Madison take his last breath. If you can't handle that,” each word dripped with acid, “then believe me, I will.”
Kurtis started laughing. She was good. Even he was convinced there for a moment. This woman would live up to her word one way or another. Seika was curious as to why he would find anything she said amusing. Her expressions were hard to come by but when they did, it was like setting off a fire in a gas station.
“Very good,” he said going back to his relaxed self. Now with a meaningful mission at hand, it was time for him to prove his worth once again. The stage was now being set for a showdown of the century. The ultimate human weapon versus the most dangerous man in governmental employ; also featuring his biggest arch-enemy. Time to cast the die. The results should be as expected. Kurtis never made any mistakes.
Never.
New gossip already filtered through the office today. As Michael and Meryl walked around the building, people couldn’t help but look and formulate their own conclusions. Meryl was quickly greeted by nearby agents passing by. They stood up form their desks and said things like “Welcome new blood,” or “Howdy.” Just a simple welcome to make her feel at ease. None of them dared to actually confront them. That’s the presence Michael carried.
Up ahead, he targeted the one person he needed to speak with since. They were near his office. Michael directed Meryl inside and said, “Wait here.” Then he was off. She watched him walk through the building retaining the same aura of mystery and confidence as he passed.
Before Meryl realized it, the office was invaded by fellow agents. They surrounded Michael’s desk and began staring in the direction he had fled. Introductions followed immediately before Meryl had a chance to react. This was an opportunity they couldn’t miss in so many ways.
“How ya doin’?” greeted the first agent. “I’m Jason Adams, but people around here call me J.C.” He was tall and slender. A bit older looking than everyone else but not too bad. His head quickly turned to catch the show.
Meryl shook his hand and smiled. “It’s a pleasure.”
The portly blonde haired man stuck his hand out and eagerly awaited her handshake. “I’m Steve.”
“Meryl,” she replied shaking his soft yet strong hand. They all turned their attention to the events unfolding, Meryl included. Not surprisingly, she had a hard time organizing the theatrics unlike everyone else. This caused her to carefully ask “So, what are we all looking at?”
J.C. chuckled but knew to defer all questions to Steve. He, of course, was one of the few in this building that could casually talk to Michael without feeling uncomfortable. That's probably the best way to put it.
“It’s a long story,” Steve began, “But I’ll give you a quick rundown. You see that girl he’s talking to?”
In the distance, Meryl could see the two conversing. The girl was pretty, no doubt about that, couldn’t be older than twenty-six or twenty-seven. They shared the same hair color only this girl had a darker skin tone than Meryl. That wasn’t saying much though. Being of half-Italian and half-British decent didn’t allow for much color other than white in her skin pigment. Nevertheless, the girl seemed nice. She contently smiled as Michael spoke with her. An odd thing to think about now that she has seen how everyone reacts to him. Meryl was eager to hear more.
“That brown-haired girl in the white coat?”
“That’s the one,” Steve replied. “Her name is Isabella but most people around her call her Izzy. A few months back on her second day here she was carrying some test samples across the room. Her coworkers told her this was an important and fragile sample. If anything happened to it, she would be fired and the building would have to be fumigated for three weeks.”
“Isn’t that a little harsh?”
“It’s a typical prank pulled on the interns. So she walked, nursing a filled beaker in each arm filled with nothing more than Kool-aid but Izzy didn’t know any better. As soon as she was close to the drop off point, an agent who was in on the prank would intentionally bump into her and destroy the samples.”
Hazing was prominent in the L.A.P.D.as well. Although, the pranks they pulled back then were a bit more permanent. Meryl would never forget the officer with long blonde hair that took his first shower using a bottle of Nair shampoo. Poor guy wore a hat for six months until it all grew back. Steve continued the story through Meryl’s memory trip.
“Well anyways, she walks up to the door and gets pushed. Unfortunately, the agent that pushed Izzy, who I remind you will remain nameless,” Steve said looking in Jason’s direction, “didn’t see Mike walking through.”
Meryl attempted to put the pieces together. “She dumped the liquid on him?”
Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “Hell no. Izzy is easily flustered, don’t get me wrong. As soon as she got hit those beakers went airborne. She bumped into Michael who stopped her from falling. And wouldn’t you know it? That son of a gun caught both of those glasses before they hit the ground without spilling a drop.”
Jason said “You should have seen the look on Steve’s face when Michael caught them. Like a damn deer in headlights.”
A rush of pain filled Jason’s shoulder. Steve made sure to put emphasis on that punch. “What did I just say about remaining nameless?” Meryl wasn’t an official detective, but she knew when someone’s cover got blown.
“Anyways, he damn near put Izzy into a coma when he poured the contents of the beakers in the trash,” stated Steve. Meryl was curious how this situation was finally resolved so she continued to listen intently. “Michael starts to walk away and before she was about to pass out he turns and says –”
Both agents say in unison “Fruit punch.” Then proceed to laugh.
Meryl quietly chuckled to herself. It seems Michael still retained some of the qualities she remembered him for. It was a nice story but it still didn’t explain the situation. This inherently forced Meryl to ask, “So why are we watching them talk now?”
Another question to be fielded by Steve. However, Jason decided to cut in and say, “Ever since then Izzy’s had a thing for Michael. Anytime he’s around she always strikes up a conversation and finds out what he’s been up to. She’s been trying to work up the courage to ask him out for weeks but can never seem to close the deal.”
Now this was interesting. Meryl had known Michael for practically his entire career in law enforcement. None of the girls had the courage to ask him out then either. However, it seemed like he has evolved into a completely different person. She was curious to see how this would go and watched with the same fervor as her colleagues.
It appeared that Isabella did most of the talking while Michael occasionally nodded. Meryl estimated that she seemed flustered. Reading lips was not on her resume but body language is something anyone with common sense could understand.
They were going over some papers that Isabella currently held. This had to those reports Michael talked about earlier.
“Uh oh,” Jason announced, “time to scatter.”
The agents dispersed immediately. Meryl just witnessed the handoff of papers between the two. Michael’s view immediately focused in Meryl’s direction which was now empty. The agents were apparently well experienced in avoiding detection. This must happen often or they fear getting caught enough to ensure it never happened.
Michael didn’t take long. He reached his office and immediately stepped inside to grab some additional papers. Meryl couldn’t process another thought before Michael said “Let’s go.” Without a second hesitation, they were off.
Nicole could hardly contain her energy. She had been running on a fuel of black coffee and highly caffeinated soda for the last eight hours. Mostly since she was woken up by the Los Angeles Sherriff's Department office with a very important piece of evidence.
One deputy got the chance of a lifetime. He was put on a plane within minutes and sent to Washington with the evidence in hand. The lab immediately put it on top priority. A drug that was responsible for the deaths of two individuals was nearly untraceable in autopsy reports. Now that they had a sample, Nicole desperately awaited the results. She hoped to hear from them before she came into work today. Six emails and two calls to the FBI Laboratory later all seemed to be in vain.
This piece of evidence, barely an ounce of it in existence, would be the key to solving these deaths. She directly appointed one of the interns on it. Nicole felt any more added pressure on her behalf would cause an extended delay. The urgency of the matter was apparent here but, in the bigger picture, the deaths of four people didn't weigh as heavy compared to the hundreds of others waiting for lab analysis.
Waiting around like this was useless. Nicole didn't have the same pull at this level as she did earlier in her career but she still knew some people that would be kind enough to help her out. Given the right encouragement that is.
Nicole picked up the phone and dialed the lab again, only this time picking a specific extension. If she was going to help Michael's case, it was going to happen in the next few minutes. The recipient picked up. She began to work her magic. No one could coerce someone to do something they shouldn't better than Nicole.
Keyless entry was a wonderful invention of the 21st century. It allowed quick access to the owner’s automobile with the same ease they would a computer. Michael kept this in mind when he purchased this vehicle. He gave the button affixed to his door handle a double tap and both of them had instant access to their seats.
They stepped inside. Meryl was touched by a bit of nostalgia. They would enter their squad car, slam their doors in near perfect harmony and speed off down the streets of Los Angeles. Their conversations were fairly joyful and entertaining. However, this was only a bit of nostalgia she felt. Michael was so professional now. She wondered if the training had any effect on him or did he just mature a little more. Some things do change after all.
The car fell silent as they drove out of the parking lot. Meryl didn't like this at all. She never felt this uncomfortable around Michael. If she wanted it to stop, then she was going to have to do it herself.
“So,” she started, “how've you been Michael?” Yuck. Meryl did not like the way she sounded. But, at least it's a start.
Michael didn’t show it, but she nearly caught him off guard. Apparently, he had been just as uncomfortable as Meryl. Just better at hiding it.
“Fine.” Short and to the point. Nothing special nor doesn't leave anything open to discussion. It was kind of a sore subject, given his history. Michael would have to respond in kind. “How are your parents?”
Meryl almost choked on the air she was breathing. She had kind of a rough past with her folks. More or less, they didn't quite approve of her career choices. Especially her mother. Meryl still spoke with her father from time to time. His level of compassion and understanding was far beyond that of his wife.
“They're doing good. My father asks about you from time to time.” That was sort of half true. Meryl's father Arnold had met Michael on more than one occasion. He was quite fond of Meryl's partner. After Michael left the L.A.P.D., Meryl stopped talking about him and soon after, Arnold stopped asking.
“Here,” Michael said while passing Meryl a short stack of papers. “Start reading.”
It seemed like an overwhelming amount but Meryl believed she could handle it. She asked the first question that should have come to mind before they even left. “Where are we heading?”
“Glendora. About forty miles east,” he quickly replied.
Meryl smiled to herself. She looked at Michael as he stared so intensely on the road. As if the world around him didn’t exist.
Well, it's a start.
Meryl dove headfirst into the documents. It's not like they had much to talk about anyways. Work always came first.
The building felt empty. Something was missing. In Isabella's case, someone. She watched him walk out of the building with the new agent. That woman. The one Isabella was warned about. Her heart sank with every passing second.
It shouldn’t be a surprise. Meryl was special in her own right. More importantly, they had a history together. Which was more than Isabella could say about herself. Finding the time to be with Michael became a challenge with each passing day. Yet she comes in and on day one, they get partnered together. Jealousy replaced all of her feelings. There was no point in being angry when Isabella was just really mad at herself. After all, it wasn’t like that woman did anything wrong.
Maybe, just maybe, they could become friends. And then she could learn her secrets. That sounded a lot better than brooding. A sweet and sour distraction from real life. Isabella was sitting at her computer waiting for an email to arrive from the labs in Washington but she couldn't help but feel like she screwed something up today. The S.A.C. had a way with words that could make everyone feel a little inferior at times.
Nevertheless, she was put on this special assignment for good reason and was ordered to see it through to the end. So there she sat. Waiting. Time seemed to float away in an endless mist of desolation. Thankfully, the real work assigned to her was more rewarding than this. Things got less fun around here when Ms. Wells had assigned her this urgent task. Sometimes she wondered if Nicole was just as lonely in the romance department.
“Isabella?”
The poor girl almost fell out of her chair. Isabella wasn't ready to get snapped back into reality that fiercely. She turned around and saw the deliverer of her present assignment of boredom.
“Yes, Ms. Wells!” Izzy snapped trying not to look too surprised. Unfortunately her emotions were blaring like an ambulance siren.
“Have the test results come in?”
With that direct question, Nicole had her trapped. She was becoming a bit impatient. Time being the fickle thing that it is, Nicole decided to visit her workstation directly and reiterate the importance of this analysis.
That and, for some strange reason, she enjoyed watching Isabella squirm.
“Um,” stuttered Isabella. Lying wasn’t an option. Nicole scared her. A lot. She was the most powerful woman Isabella had ever met. Her presence was something to behold. Kind of like the way Michael carried himself in the office. That still wasn't reason enough to remain silent. A miracle would have to happen. Izzy prayed for one. And then another for good measure.
“Well?” Remarked Nicole. She wasn't getting any younger. But the urgency of those test results had to be enforced.
“They, um.” She was stuttering again. Not a good sign. All of the sudden, her computer chimed a unique but familiar sound. A savior at last. “They just arrived.”
Nicole's face turned cold, as if it could drop any more degrees in temperature. “Print them out immediately!” Like a bolt of lightning, Nicole took off towards the printer. There was no need to estimate the urgency of the matter. Nicole's passion was chiming at all levels
. And it was saying the same thing.
Hurry the hell up!
Humans rarely moved as fast as computers yet Isabella promptly approached that speed. Without even catching a glimpse of the file, she printed out the attachment. The printer began to bellow with the sounds of movement. Lights blinked, rollers turned, and Nicole waited with as much patience as she could force.
Paper burst through the feed. The machine roared with approval, signaling the end of its function and then went silent. Nicole caught the page before it even finished ejecting. She fled the confines of the laboratory area and headed back to her office. Izzy was left without so much as a heartfelt word of appreciation or even a departing message. Kind of a sad feeling but it was expected. The S.A.C. was just that kind of woman.
Nicole rushed back to her desk. The freshly piece of printed paper was half folded between her thumb and index finger. The door remained half open, the way she left it. Nicole shut the door behind her and sat down. The document she printed now lay out before her so that she could examine the contents.
A brief message was written by the author, a lab technician in the FBI's head branch. It started with something along the lines of an apology for delaying the results. There was apparently a difficulty in decoding the substance that was submitted but the chemical compounds could be verified to a good enough percentile. It was all really good work on their part but Nicole was still surprised that they had this much difficulty. That is, until her eyes peered to the center of the document and saw the results of the analysis.
Emptiness filled Nicole's stomach. Her eyes widened. A memory from long ago resurfaced. Something she never expected to see again. There was no denying it. She knew exactly what this was or, at the very least, what it was trying to be. Nicole would have to confirm these results. She knew there was only one person on this planet capable of doing it for her. That would mean digging up buried memories. Things she had hoped to forget.