Stan Curling of the York Federal Police said, “Many of you watching this had relatives who died from Virus Botulism. If you know the whereabouts of Guy Coocher or Borner Hoskins, please call the number on your screen. The number is different in different locations in York. Police are waiting for your call. Help us find these men and bring them to justice.”
I wouldn’t want to be Hoskins or Coocher right now. They might be holed up in Chester. The best chance for them would be to stay out of Zor. But that still left plenty of places to hide. It’s a big country. The police must investigate thousands of tags.
After a brief nap, I tuned in again to see folks marching in front of Parliament. “Down with Coocher” said one sign. “Coocher is Dead!” said another. I grinned when I read one with “Poors for Parliament.”
I watched my guard check the ID of everyone who came into my room. On one of my walks around the halls, I asked the older one how he checked everyone.
He wore a light blue shirt and dark blue slacks. But with his longish black hair, speckled with gray streaks, and a cap with a baseball pitcher winding up, it’d be easy to figure him for a visitor.
He said, “They don’t let me download ID info to my comm so I have to send an image, name, and employee number to a computer. If I get back a green light, then I know that person is on the staff, a contractor, or a family member.”
“You send a photo?”
“Oh yeah. It would be easy for someone who wanted access to your room to steal a uniform and maybe ID. But you can’t fool a photo.”
“And if they don’t match?” I asked.
He grinned. “I pull out my gun and cuff them on the spot for impersonating.”
We walked around a corner.
“What happens when you need to take a break?”
“There are always two of us on duty. You may not see the other one.”
I had but I wasn’t going to tell him everything. Spies are like that. We don’t tell all we know.
I spent most of my time reading but found I could do only so much of that.
On my second day, I was busy with an ereader on my lap when I heard a voice.
“Ahem.”
I looked up to see Alena and Vincent. She had on a red pantsuit and white lacy blouse. He wore his light brown suit.
“Wow,” I said. “Thanks for coming.”
My daughter came over to the edge of my bed and gave me a hug. Vincent offered his hand and we shook.
“How are you doin’?” she asked.
“My belly still hurts a little. It’s getting better.”
I raised my left arm to show her the IV. “They gave me something to stop the bleeding. And something to help the healing.”
She said, “I heard the confession on the telly. They did a good job disguising the voice.” She paused to look behind her at the open door. Then she leaned down to whisper in my ear. “If you hadn’t told me, I never would have guessed who it was.”
“Hey, we do what we hafta do.”
Vincent interrupted our private chat.
“It’s good to have you back, cowboy.”
I had to grin at that one. It was a nickname for me at the ops center.
Alena asked, “When you going home?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Good. Then you’ll have time to attend Mom’s memorial service.”
“Oh, when is it?”
“Two tomorrow. At her house.”
“That will give me time to go home, take a shower, and get a change of clothes.” I turned to my daughter.
“How are you doin’?”
“Gliituk has been very helpful,” said Alena. “He’s provided everything I want.”
“Have you published another paper yet?”
“Been too busy in the lab. It takes a lot of time to sequence a genome.”
She sat in the only guest chair and Vincent stood at the foot of my bed.
“Do you suppose,” she said, “that I could get a place of my own soon?”
“Not while either son of a bitch is loose out there,” I answered.
My comm vibrated. There was a special newscast.
“Telly on.”
The screen on the opposite wall lit up.
Sheila Fish said, “Federal Police raided the headquarters of Humans Only this afternoon. At the same time, several more Federal Police raided the home of Coocher in Chester on the western side of York.”
The camera view changed to the front steps of the same house I had been in just days ago. Two men struggled to carry a stretcher down the steps. The stretcher held a body covered by a white sheet.
A male reporter spoke.
“Guy Coocher was killed by gunfire just a few minutes ago as federal police stormed his estate here in Chester.”
The reporter turned to another man next to him. His name tag said Richard Brown, York Federal Police.
Brown said into the camera, “We tried to arrest Mr. Coocher. We broke down the door of his library. In the ensuing exchanges of gunfire, Mr. Coocher was fatally shot.”
The reported asked, “Any sign of Borner Hoskins?”
Brown shook his head. “Nope.”
“They’ll catch him soon,” said Vincent. “He can’t hide for long.”
I added, “Unless friends around Chester keep him in their basement. Lots of folks out there seemed pretty conservative. There’s a reason why Coocher got elected, you know.”
Then I added, “Anyone taking care of Monk?”
Vincent smiled. “Oh yeah. The bugger is making a lot of friends around the place.”
He declined to use the words ‘ops center.’
Alena glanced at her comm. “Oh shit! Oops.” She covered her mouth. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“What?” I asked.
“I have to get back to my lab. I have a sequence coming out soon.”
“Sequence?” I asked.
“DNA sequence,” she explained. “What the heck do you think I do?”
“Sorry. Forgot for a moment.”
She stood and reached down to give me another hug goodbye. “Take care of yourself, Dad. You’re all I have left.”
“Ahem,” said Vincent.
She stood and turned to him. “And my stepdad, of course.” She gave him a hug too.
Before they left, Vincent shook my hand. “I’ll see you at my house tomorrow.”
“I’ll be there,” I replied. “You can count on it.”
Alone after they left, I didn’t get very far in my novel when I heard a rap on my door sill. I looked up to see Ron, this time in a light brown suit, complete with a pink dress shirt opened all the way down to his hairy chest.
“Well, it’s good to see you,” I said.
When he came close, I saw Zetto walk in. My communications expert stood tall, as usual, and wore a blue and white checkered shirt and blue jeans.
After handshakes, Ron said, “You’re missed. You gotta get outta here.”
“You got that right,” I replied. “Zetto serves much better food than this place.”
With that, Zetto grinned.
“Just tell me what you want and I’ll have it ready for your first meal.”
“Are you cooking at the memorial?”
Zetto shook his head. “No. It’s catered.”
“That sounds like Vincent. Where’s Gancha?”
Ron replied, “Babysitting Ruta. Jake, I think she’s gonna work out.”
#
Ron and Zetto came at ten the next morning to take me home. The nurse made me sit in a damned wheelchair until I got to Zetto’s car. At least he drove a decent sized vehicle. Ron’s two-seater wouldn’t do.
I got a surprise when I got in. A moncat jumped into my lap.
“Hey, little guy.”
I rubbed his ears and fur. He jumped to my neck and gave me a hug.
As the hospital orderly returned the wheelchair to the front door, Ron climbed in the back.
Monk wouldn’t let go, making it diffic
ult to get a seatbelt on. When I managed, I held Monk in my lap.
We took off and Zetto drove around downtown while Ron and I checked for a tail. He drove on Main Street several times before heading on University Avenue to Cierto Road. When we got to my apartment, Zetto and Ron helped me get out.
Zetto took Monk while I limped to go inside. My stomach still ached. Climbing the stairs inside my place was a bitch and Ron pulled my right arm over his shoulders as we climbed.
Tut reported the apartment had no visitors.
“Want to take a nap?” asked Ron. “We have time.”
“I’m all slept out. Let’s get this show on the road.”
It felt good to be back home in my own place. I had spent too many days and nights in the ops center, in a cramped van on the way to Chester, in a helo, and in the hospital.
The warm water from the shower was a touch of heaven, prompting me to hum.
Yep, life is good.
I washed the blood off my left hand from the IV before I checked my chin to see if I needed to shave. But it had been only a few weeks since I had last used Bristle Gone and I didn’t need it.
Putting on my pants was difficult with my sore belly so it took longer than normal to get dressed. I pictured what it must be like to be old. The old advice, “Use it or lose it” came to mind.
As soon as my stomach heals, I’m going jogging again.
Ron helped me finish dressing in a blue suit with black shoes, undershirt, pale blue shirt, holster, and gun. Most of my shirts had two slits in the left breast so I could cover up the strap of my holster on my chest and yet get to my gun.
When we walked out of the bedroom and into the living room, I found Zetto watching the telly on one wall.
Sheila Fish reported that there had been no viable leads on the whereabouts of Hoskins. His image appeared to her right.
She said, “If you have any idea where this man can be found, please call your local police or the toll free number on your screen for the York Federal Police.”
Since Hoskins was still at large, I said, “Ron, can you put my ankle Snap on, please? It still hurts to bend over.”
While he wrapped the small holster and gun, I looked around. “Where’s Monk?”
“In the kitchen,” reported Zetto. “Where else?”
He pulled a black arm band from his jacket pocket and I stuck my left arm out straight while he slipped the black band up my arm.
“Better bring Monk,” I said. “He’ll stay with us at the center until Hoskins is caught.”
Ron helped me down the stairs, but I insisted on walking alone to Zetto’s car. Zetto had gone ahead and when we got to the back door, his car was waiting with an open back door.
Chapter 54
We passed over the Ambassador Bridge and I looked at a military ship docked below. Small. Must be a destroyer.
We parked in the huge lot at Vincent’s house. Ron offered me a cane but I refused.
“I can make it on my own.”
Vincent put on a grand display. We went to the living room, where photos of Leanna adorned the walls. A giant photo rested on one table.
She must have known lots of people because the room was full of folks, all wearing black or black arm bands. I spotted Sheila Fish with a drink in her hand and messed up eyeliner. Why is that women take death so hard? Maybe men do too, but they can’t show it. Or don’t want to. There were times when being a man was a burden.
Sheila spotted me and broke away from the group around her. She wore a black dress and black heels. She rushed up and put her arms around me while trying not to spill her glass of white wine.
I winced from her hug.
“Oops. Sorry,” she added.
She glanced at the large photo of Leanna.
“I’m so sorry, Jake. I know she meant a lot to you.”
Her breasts pushed against my chest. Her words echoed in my head.
Yeah. No one will ever know how much.
That damned lump came to my throat again.
When Sheila broke the hug and stepped back, her eyes were wet again.
“Got a tissue?” she asked.
I shook my head and looked around for a box of tissues. Every flat surface had one. Vincent had thought of everything.
I pulled one out from a box on the table by the door and gave it to her. She dabbed under both eyes. I don’t know why. Her eyeliner was all over her eyes.
She took my right arm and led me to the large image of Leanna on the table. We stared at it for a minute.
The woman I had loved was now dead. She smiled in the photo. I recalled her face in the storage room, thin, gaunt even. The disease had taken a lot out of her. I preferred to remember her smiling.
Alena touched my left arm and I looked up at her. She stood three inches taller than me. Must have high heels on. Her eyes were wet too.
We three stood like that for several minutes, not saying a word, each lost in memories as we stared at the photo.
Vincent came up to us and placed his left hand on my right shoulder. He wore black too. I wondered why we still followed the old ritual.
He stood there looking at his wife’s image.
Sheila got up on a chair. She spoke aloud to the crowd.
“This has not been released yet, but I thought you’d like to know. Leanna’s sacrifice was not in vain. Parliament voted on the Freedom from Aliens Bill. It went down with 52 nayes. Klava said he hoped we could put this sour chapter behind us and move on. The House of Commons passed a bill declaring an annual Greet Your Neighbor Day. The bill goes before the Senate next week.”
Hands clapped everywhere. She stepped down from the chair amid smiles and handshakes.
I turned to Vincent. “Got any food in this joint?”
He broke away from staring at Leanna’s photo and pulled my right arm. We went into the adjacent dining room to a long table with a white cloth draped over it. On the surface were chicken and ham sandwiches, a stack of plates, a pile of green grapes, and apples in a basket, amongst a virtual cornucopia of food.
I saw a pile of garnot fruit, three different cheeses, sourdough and black breads, and two pink bowls of punch, one labeled “hard”, with small glass cups stacked next to the bowls.
Sheila came into the dining room, went to the end, and selected a plate.
I grabbed a plate and followed her. The plates were small, so I figured I should avoid piling it high with food like I usually do. After all, it was a memorial service, not a picnic.
The ham sandwiches looked good, and I selected two, along with a pile of green beans and a half dozen wedges of potatoes. At the end of the table, I grabbed a knife, fork, and a paper cloth, which I stuffed in my suit pocket.
I turned to follow Sheila as a male server in a tuxedo stood behind a table and filled her glass with wine. When I looked at him, he turned a glass over for me and filled it.
I took the wine in my left hand and the plate in my right.
How am I supposed to shake hands?
I followed my favorite newscaster back into the living room. Sheila found a table with two empty chairs. I placed my food and drink on the small table.
With so many people in the room standing, it was impossible to see the large image of my ex.
I bit off a piece of ham sandwich and chewed.
Five minutes later, Sheila got up to get more wine.
I emptied my glass. The wine was good. I stood to get more. As I made my way toward the dining room, I turned around to see a man and a woman take the seats we had left behind. Oh well.
As I slid between one group of people and another, I saw a new guy come in the front door. Full beard and moustache with streaks of gray, bushy gray eyebrows, darker skin tone, gray hat, and a wearing dark gray suit. He walked with a stoop. Must be old.
How many people did Leanna know anyway? Must be in the hundreds.
His eyes looked out with intensity.
Where have I seen that look before?
Sheila was n
owhere in sight when I got my glass refilled. I made my way back to the center of the living room when I spotted Alena.
I twisted and turned through the crowd, overhearing bits of conversation.
“…hear she was working for Channel One.”
“She had good taste in flowers.”
“…commodities are the future…
A female voice said, “Come on, Larry, we’ve all heard that one.”
I spotted Alena walking out to the balcony so I made a turn to join her.
She leaned against the wooden rail and stared at the night sky.
Clouds blocked half the stars. I came up beside her and grabbed the rail.
She turned to me and laid her head on my shoulder. I put my left arm around her.
“Hello, Alena. We meet again,” said a voice behind us.
She spun around to look at the old man with the full beard.
She said, “How dare you show up here!”
He replied, “What luck! Both of you in the same place.”
He pulled a gun out and pointed it at her.
My reflexes kicked in and I knocked the gun out of his hand. That’s when I remembered where I had seen those eyes.
Hoskins!
He and I grabbed each other’s arms, and he pushed me backwards toward the rail. I hit it with the low of my back but dared not let go of him. But no matter how I twisted or struggled, he held firm. My stomach hurt but I ignored it. I had more important things on my mind. Like surviving.
Then a shot rang out.
Hoskins went stiff and stared with a surprised look on his face.
In the moment of his distraction, I twisted out from his grip and pulled him toward me as I turned from the rail. He staggered forward and his upper body went over the rail, followed by his legs.
I stared over the rail to watch him fall. He made no sound as he receded in the distance to land with a thump on the pavement below. As he lay there, not moving, a dark pool inched outward from his body.
I turned to see what could have caused the gunshot sound and saw Alena holding a gun in both hands, pointed in my direction, eyes in a glaze.
I stepped aside and reached out to take the gun by its muzzle. She did not resist but remained staring ahead.
Humans Only: A Jake Dani Novel (Jake Dani/Mike Shapeck Book 2) Page 31