by James Somers
Jay swaggered away toward the food. “Now, that’s what I’m talkin about.”
Jonathan looked at Joseph. “I’ll look after him, sir,” Joseph said, then followed the boy.
“That’s an interesting butler you’ve got there, Mr. Hallowed.”
“Please, call me Jonathan, Detective. I’m really not a formal sort of person.”
“All right, Jonathan, fair enough. I’m Mike. So where did you dig Joseph up.”
Jonathan laughed under his breath, grabbing a shrimp puff from a passing tray. “I didn’t dig him up, Mike. Joseph was a friend of my father. As I said, Dad and my uncle started Genetic Corp, and a few other businesses together. When they died in a plane crash, Joseph stepped in as executor of my father’s will. Trenton was older than me, but he wasn’t ready to raise a young child, so Joseph stayed on with me as my legal guardian. He’s been like a father to me.”
Michael caught a drink from a passing waiter, turned the glass up, emptied the contents in one gulp. “That’s a great story, Jonathan. So what about Trenton? Did he have a father figure, too?”
“Trenton has always been very self sufficient, as you can see. He’s been running Genetic Corp for the most part. Trenton has taken this company through some big ups and downs, but we’re still here, thanks to him.”
“Sounds pretty savvy,” Michael said.
“That and more. Oh hey, Doug.” Jonathan caught a man by the arm as he passed.
The rotund man stopped short of a sandwich platter he had been trailing. “Jonathan, so good to see you, my boy.”
Jonathan turned him toward Michael. “Douglas Tanner, I’d like you to meet Police Detective, Michael Stamos.”
“Very good to meet you,” he said, shaking hands. “Always a pleasure to meet a friend of Jonathan’s.”
“Mr. Tanner.”
Jonathan patted Doug on the shoulder. “Mr. Tanner is the CEO of another of our companies.”
“Oh really, which one would that be?” Michael asked.
Doug took a sip of wine from his glass. “Halo Technologies. We have ten divisions, lots of government contracts—boring dinner conversation.”
“I think I’ve seen Halo Tech in the news recently—something with cryogenics, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes,” Doug said. “We do quite a bit with cryogenics. Once you get the technique down, it has any number of good applications.”
“You mean like freezing yourself until they come up with a cure for cancer, and that kind of stuff?” Michael asked.
“Well, that is one application, but there are many others, and some I’m not allowed to discuss—top secret, you know.”
“Of course,” Michael said.
Doug spotted another waiter carrying items of interest. “Well, gentlemen, I’m sure I’ll see you in the observation booth.” He excused himself, following a tray of shrimp.
“Interesting fellow,” Michael said sarcastically.
Jonathan laughed under his breath. “He’s actually pretty brilliant, once you get to know him.”
A deep voice interrupted their conversation. “Jonathan, I wasn’t expecting any special guests.”
Michael turned. Trenton Hallowed stood there, holding a champagne glass. He forced a smile as he gazed at Detective Stamos, then at Jonathan.
“The detective dropped by the house,” Jonathan said. “When I mentioned our celebration, he said he’d like to see what you’ve accomplished,” Jonathan said.
Michael smiled at Trenton.
“I’m sure he did,” Trenton said, raising his glass as if to toast the detective’s gesture. “Well, Detective, I hope none of the material I cover today will be over your head.”
Michael maintained his game face. “I’ll try to keep up.”
“Jonathan, is that the boy you’ve been mentoring?” Trenton asked, diverting the conversation.
“That’s Jay. He ran into some trouble, but I’ve got him back.”
“Really,” Michael asked, “what kind of trouble?”
“Let’s just say, he’s a little too good with a computer for his own good.”
Trenton looked at his watch. “It’s almost time, gentlemen. I’ve got to get up to the fourth floor and make sure everything is ready. Don’t be late.” He turned, starting to walk away.
“Oh, Doc?”
Trenton turned, puzzled. “Yes?”
“Aren’t you wondering why I didn’t bring my partner, Detective Link?”
Jonathan saw the slightest hint of unnerved pass over Trenton’s face.
“Actually Detective, I assumed he simply wasn’t interested in genetic research.” Trenton smiled. “Is he not well?”
Michael seemed to stammer for just a second. “No…but I’ll give him your regards.”
Trenton, completely collected again, smiled. “You do that.” He turned and strolled through the crowd.
•••
Trenton looked back over his shoulder at Jonathan, and Detective Stamos. Did he know? How could Jonathan have been so stupid to bring him here, and on the day of his greatest triumph?
He parted the crowd. Carol met him with a fearful look in her eye. “Trenton, is that the police officer?”
“Yes.”
“Well, why is he here?”
“Calm down, Carol. Everything is under control. He’s just trying to psych me out, but that’s not going to happen.”
She watched Jonathan and his party through the crowd, nervously. “Is he staying for the exhibition?”
He grabbed her wrist, squeezing enough to break her concentration on Detective Stamos. “Carol, relax. Go up to four. Make sure they’ve got everything ready, all right?”
She nodded and he released her to do as she’d been told. Trenton tried to take a drink, but he’d already emptied the glass.
A waiter appeared out of nowhere with his tray. “I’ll take that for you, sir.”
Trenton placed the glass on the tray, taking notice of the man before him. His voice was gravelly and he had a dreadful scar running from his left brow to the corner of his nostril. He smiled, but not in an inviting way. “Thank you,” Trenton said. He walked away under the man’s stare.
9 VENDETTA
The waiter with the scarred face watched Trenton Hallowed walk up one of the twin staircases to the next level. Dr. Hallowed looked nervous. Truth be told, Scarface didn’t care. If all went according to plan, Trenton Hallowed would shortly become just another homicide statistic.
Scarface walked back toward the kitchen. He didn’t stop to serve anyone else, or retrieve another spent wine glass. The lobby of Genetic Corp had filled with guests dressed in tuxedos and suits. He thought about how much money was in this room. But he wasn’t here for a heist—not today.
Scarface passed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. It was a good thing for him that Genetic Corp usually had their functions catered. He had been able to pass into the building armed and unhindered as one of the caterer’s staff. He walked past several people preparing food. He wore the same uniform they were wearing, but he didn’t work for the same employer.
Scarface set his tray down on the counter and walked over to a cart he had been using. Someone had placed a tray of chilled shrimp on the top. He pushed the cart back to the service elevator, then inside, once the doors opened. When the doors closed again, Scarface pressed the button for the fourth floor and removed a composite briefcase from the lower shelf. He opened the case and seized a number of black metal parts from the molded foam holding them. Scarface assembled the pieces into an Uzi 9mm submachine gun in record breaking time, retrieved several clips of ammunition, closed the case, and replaced it under the cart. He slung the submachine gun over his shoulder on a strap, then grabbed a handful of peeled shrimp, popping them into his mouth. The elevator arrived at the fourth floor. Scarface tapped the stop button, holding the elevator, and looked at his watch. Just a little longer, Mr. Hallowed.
•••
Michael sat in the observation t
heater next to Jonathan Hallowed’s butler, Joseph, with Jay next to him. Michael gave a sideways glance at the man who had raised Jonathan, after his father’s death, wondering if he wasn’t also his bodyguard. Joseph was built like a retired linebacker—a dash of salt in his pepper black hair. “Are you a science fan, Joseph?”
Joseph barely regarded the question.
“Not very talkative are you?” Michael asked.
“Only when I have something of consequence to say, Detective.”
“So, what did you do before becoming Jonathan Hallowed’s nursemaid?”
Joseph closed his eyes slowly, smiling. “Excellent tactic, Detective—trying to illicit an emotional response?”
Michael looked around the glassed-in theater at the many scientists, investors, and government contractors assembled to watch Trenton Hallowed’s experiment. “You’re pretty big, Joseph. Did you used to wrestle alligators or something?”
Joseph faced him. “Detective, if you did a background search, you might find that I’ve made some wise investments in my past. If you did an extensive search, you might even find that I began my career, not unlike yourself, eventually working for the CIA for several years, before leaving to do private security work for a wealthy client.”
“Jonathan’s father, maybe?”
Joseph’s cocked eyebrow gave him his answer.
Michael looked down through the thick Plexiglass window at Trenton and Jonathan, inside the lab room where the experiment was set to occur. A large Plexiglass cage, with a partition near one end, took up most of the room. On one side, Trenton tended a large, white rat. A tank marked Generation X Mutagen stood anchored to the floor nearby, with a hose connected to the rat’s end of the cage. Inside the larger portion of the cage, two anacondas lay coiled, waiting.
“Maybe Trenton isn’t the one I should be concerned about,” Michael said.
Joseph blinked, then looked at him more seriously. “Detective, I’m an former agent, not a killer. My only desire is to protect Jonathan and see that he is well cared for.”
Michael paid attention to the conviction in Joseph’s voice. He felt sure Joseph was probably clean. “Then what do your instincts tell you about Trenton Hallowed?”
Michael saw suspicion in the butler’s eyes. “I’m not sure, Detective. I do know that Trenton is very passionate about his work. I don’t believe he is a killer. Besides, these crimes would be impossible for him to commit, even if he were.”
Michael turned his attention back to the exhibition. Perhaps.
Trenton’s voice came through a speaker in the theater. Everyone became quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen, let me first express my deep appreciation for your presence at this demonstration. It’s no secret, many of you have been critical of my research into man’s progressive evolution, but I hope today’s demonstration will stifle any doubts. We have tapped into man’s potential and found ways to enhance our regenerative functions, wound healing, and immune response—things that may provide immunity to dangerous, as well as common illnesses—potential cures for cancer, hepatitis, and Aids.”
Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A wave of murmuring swept through the guests in the theater. “I’ve asked my cousin and co-owner of Genetic Corp, Jonathan Hallowed, to assist me in this exhibition.” He instructed Jonathan, in hushed tones, before returning to his lapel mic.
Jonathan walked to the far end of the anaconda side of the cage and waited next to a switch. Michael assumed it must be the control to the partition separating the rat from the snakes. Trenton gestured toward his side of the cage. “As you can see, I’ve isolated our test subject, Larry the rat, from two deadly anacondas. I can assure you that these are not domesticated animals. And we’ve kept them hungry.”
The crowd murmured again. Michael watched Trenton like a hawk.
“Larry has undergone measured exposure to my Generation X Mutagen, for thirty days,” Trenton said. “I’m going to give him one final exposure dose.” Trenton tapped the mutagen tank control next to the cage. A puff of green fog filled Larry’s side. The rat squirmed inside the mist, until it dissipated.
“Now that we’ve given Larry a final dose of Generation X Mutagen, I would like to ask Jonathan to remove the barrier between predator and prey.”
Jonathan followed the instructions he had been given a moment ago, pulling on the lever to raise the partition. It only took a moment for the starved anacondas to react. First one, then the other, began to glide toward their prey.
The white rat remained perfectly still as the first snake approached. It struck. Larry responded, leaping beyond the ravenous rope of muscle. However, the second anaconda lay there waiting. The reptile struck, catching Larry in its jaws. Instantly, the coils enveloped the struggling white rat, trying to squeeze the life out of him. The audience gasped. Michael noticed a few of the guests smirk—the exhibition an obvious failure. When he looked at Trenton, the man was grinning from ear to ear. What are you up to, Doc?
Michael watched the successful snake with the rat. It began to spasm wildly. Blood poured onto the cage floor. The rat emerged from the thick coils, covered in blood. The anaconda’s head flopped around, shredded. The first snake took notice of the prey. Larry, the rat, did not hesitate to attack it. Michael sat on the edge of his seat as the rat killed the other snake in gruesome fashion.
Trenton interjected. “You see? My Generation X Mutagen has transformed Larry into a super rat. Not even these dangerous predators could overpower him!”
Everything suddenly clicked for Michael. A normal man could not have committed these crimes, but a super human, hyped up on Hallowed’s mutagen, could. Before Michael could stand and go to the lab to arrest Trenton Hallowed, the door burst open below.
Michael heard a deep voice barely audible through Trenton’s lapel mic. Automatic gunfire sprayed across the lab below. Michael saw a burly man firing into the room with a submachine gun. Trenton fell behind the Plexiglass cage as the cylinder of Generation X Mutagen exploded. Michael watched Jonathan Hallowed go down under a hail of bullets.
Joseph jumped over Michael—a gun in his hand—heading for the door. Michael recognized the weapon as a Glock 29 10mm pistol. He’d gotten it by security somehow. Michael jumped to his feet and followed the butler, leaving Jay huddled on the ground with the other panicking guests. An alarm sounded. Michael saw the lab door start to come down behind the gunman. He backed out before it closed. The entire lab filled with thick green fog—Trenton’s chemical.
Michael rounded the doorway, as Joseph opened fire on the gunman—two rounds to the chest, one to the head. Uzi gunfire sprayed the hallway and ceiling, then ceased, as Scarface fell over dead. People in the observation theater screamed in panic.
Joseph ran to the door. It was sealed tight. A security guard rounded the corner with his gun drawn. “Get someone up here who can open this door, now!” Joseph shouted. Michael ran back into the theater, trying to calm the guests. Beyond the Plexiglass windows, he saw Trenton, barely moving near the exploded tank. His lapel mic carried his raspy breaths through the theater speakers.
The green, chemical fog hung heavy in the air. The door had sealed automatically, preventing contamination outside the lab. Michael looked for Jonathan, finding him near the front of the room. The young man’s clothes were soaked with fresh blood. He wasn’t moving.
10 EMERGENCY
Michael watched as Paramedics finished strapping Trenton Hallowed to a gurney for transport. His assistant, Carol, followed as they wheeled the scientist out of the lab with an oxygen mask strapped to his face. He was banged up, but otherwise unharmed. Jonathan Hallowed had not faired so well in the incident.
Michael watched Joseph standing behind the coroner technicians, as they zipped the body-bag over Jonathan’s lifeless form. Joseph’s face was rigid as stone. Michael’s own experience, having to stand by while his former partner was taken away, flashed in his mind. It was obvious Joseph loved the young man like a son, but he would not show emoti
on. His former training wouldn’t allow weakness to shine through.
Michael walked over to Joseph and stood beside the taller man. Even after a firefight, the butler still made his own appearance seem unkempt. “I’m sorry about Jonathan,” Michael said.
Joseph glanced at him. He said nothing, but Michael plainly recognized the anguish behind his eyes—a caged animal waiting for the right moment to escape. “I recognize the hit-man.”
Joseph turned toward him. “Who is he and who does he work for?”
“His name is Tommy Chang, but most people on the street called him Scarface. He works for a guy named Ming—likes to call himself Ming the Merciless—you know, like the old Flash Gordon villain.”
Joseph cocked an eyebrow.
“Okay, maybe not,” Michael said. “Anyway, he’s the leader of—”
“The Ring,” Joseph said.
Michael pursed his lips. “I guess you’ve heard of it?”
“Hard not to—Imperial City’s primary crime organization,” Joseph said.
“Yeah, and virtually impregnable.”
Joseph started walking toward the door, following the coroners. “We’ll see.”
“The last thing we need is another vigilante, Joseph. Just let the pros handle this.”