Chemical Burn

by Quincy J. Allen

  “He’s engrossed,” I replied as I got ready to hit the beach. “I’ve never seen him work before, and he’s tackling it with a passion. He did say that what Shao came up with is absolutely brilliant. Xen’s words not mine, which is saying something. Basically, the bulk of the process takes place at DiMarco’s plant, but the last phase happens on-site at the dry-cleaners with some sort of converter or extractor. He’s digging into that now.”

  “Tell me something,” she said, looking up through squinted eyes.

  I moved to block the sunlight, reached over to the table and grabbed her sunglasses. I delicately put them on her face.

  “Thanks,” she said as I sat down. I wore a pair of Hawaiian print swim-trunks that I know Rachel had to force herself not to comment on.

  “Anything,” I said, meaning it.

  “Why do you do it? Work as a detective, I mean. You obviously don’t need money … and come to think of it, most of the people you work for almost never pay you. You might as well be a cop.”

  I smiled. “You know damn well that I’m not cop material. Like O’Neil is always telling me, cops have to play by the rules … or are at least they’re supposed to.”

  “Clearly. But as you like to say, that doesn’t answer the question. Why do you do it? Why risk your life and work so hard to go after guys like DiMarco?”

  “The moment he came after Xen, he was a dead man. But that’s not what you’re asking.” I looked at her closely. “You ever read Andrew Jackson?”

  Her face told me she thought I was changing the subject. “A little … in college. Not much, why?”

  “Well, when I first got here, I read a lot about your history … Earth history and American history … getting a better grasp of my new home. You know?”

  “And?”

  “Well, there’s something he wrote that I think is applicable anywhere and everywhere sentient beings live. And people are people on every planet where there’s a hut, town or stack of skyscrapers.”

  “What did he write?”

  “All tyranny needs to gain a foothold is for people of good conscience to remain silent.” I took a long swig of beer, and my eyes were looking at something far off, something that troubled me deeply. “That’s how I came to be, you know. Men of good conscience were silent as men without a conscience created me … and used me … me and Magdelain.”

  “Justin? Are you okay?” she asked.

  “I hate what I was before, you know.” I could feel tears forming in my eyes, and I took another swig of beer. “I’m ashamed of it.”

  Rachel reached out and touched my hand.

  “Back then, I was DiMarco and Pyotr. Or at least the tool of such men … and I enjoyed it.” My voice overflowed with self-loathing. “Right up until my father showed me what I was doing. He found out what these men were using his creation to do. My father was the first man of good conscience in my life who spoke up.”

  “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

  I sniffed and wiped a tear from my cheek. I looked at her and smiled, laughing slightly. “I am now … I have been since I got to Earth. And I do more than not remain silent with creatures like DiMarco because I can.”

  “You’re a good man, Justin.”

  “I’m not a man at all,” I reminded her with a wry grin.

  She looked at my caringly. “Yes you are. The best I’ve ever known.”

  “You need to get out more.” I winked, and we laughed together.

  My swim forgotten, we spent the next few hours talking about life and the universe … nothing specific, the small talk of two people who, out of the darkness and chaos, found comfort in each other.

  ***

  Tea Time

  Alisa gave the man his change and watched a young couple walk out the front door of her Grandfather’s teahouse. Looking at the clock, she saw it was twelve-thirty a.m. She walked over to the curtain, pulled it aside, and peered into the dining area, finding Galina all alone. “Is that the last of them?” she asked as her cousin wiped down a table.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Galina nodded. “It’s empty back here. Go lock up the front. We’ll finish cleaning and count out the drawers.”

  Alisa nodded her head and walked to the front. She turned off the Open sign in the front corner window and walked towards the front door. Three men wearing long black coats appeared in the window from that side of the building and kept pace with her as she approached the door. She saw a man running across the street and realized she was in trouble. She dove the last few feet, grabbed the lock and gave it a quick turn just as a big man pushed on the door. It didn’t budge. Alisa looked out at four dark-haired men wearing black coats, a smile of victory on her face. She saw two more men coming across the street now. The second, smaller man at the door reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol with a silencer, pointing it directly at her head.

  “Open the fucking door,” he ordered. “Unless you think this glass is bullet proof.” The smile drifted from her face to his. “Now,” he added, tapping the glass with the gun barrel three times to emphasize the point.

  She reached out and slowly unlocked the door. The moment it clicked, the big man hammered the doorframe, flinging the door hard into her face. She yelped and flew back a few steps, landing on her butt and holding her bloody nose. A red line ran from her jaw up to her forehead, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Six men poured into the room. Two of them produced shotguns out of their coats and ran to the back of the room, standing on each side of the curtain. One raised the butt of his shotgun while the other leveled the barrel at the curtain. Antonio and Tommy stood over Alisa on either side, looking down at her as she bled.

  “Awwww … look at that, Tommy,” Antonio said, smiling. “You made her cry.” Tommy remained silent, content to stand there looking dangerous. Intimidation and abuse was his favorite part of the job. Antonio pulled out a roll of duct tape just as Galina stepped through the curtain.

  “Alisa, are you …” the butt of a shotgun crashing into the side of her face cut her off. She dropped in a heap, barely moving. The men at the curtain walked through it with the business ends of their shotguns leading the way.

  “Tape them up in back,” Bennie DiMarco walked in with an evil grin on his face.

  It didn’t take long to have both girls taped to chairs in the middle of the dining area.

  Galina regained consciousness just as her legs were secured. She glared at Bennie. “You shouldn’t have done this, mister. Do you have any idea who our grandfather is?”

  Bennie laughed wickedly. “Yeah I do, as a matter of fact. You’re grandfather … is old,” he pointed out confidently. “And we’re not. He should be more careful who he gives help to.”

  “My grandfather is going to rip your arms off.”

  “Tommy, show her what I think of that.”

  Tommy backhanded her across the face.

  “Galina!” Alisa yelled as Galina’s head snapped around, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped, unconscious again.

  “Now, little girl,” Bennie said, looking at Alisa with an evil gleam in his eyes. “Listen to me very carefully, and you two may live through this.”

  O O O

  Yvgenny’s cell phone woke him. He rolled over in bed, grabbed it off the nightstand, and looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it. He set it back down, rolled back over, and closed his eyes. A minute later it rang again. Wrong numbers called once. People who needed something called twice. Rolling towards the nightstand again, he turned on the light and grabbed his phone.

  “Da?”

  “It’s Alisa, grandfather,” she said, slowing slightly on the last word. Yvgenny picked up a slight waver in her voice, and she never called him grandfather. She always used the Russian term dedushka. “Did you make it to your place up in the hills?” He didn’t have a house in the hills.

  He paused for a moment, thinking quickly. Something was very wrong. “Da, Alisa. What can I do
for you?”

  “Well, Galina and I were closing up, but we can’t open the register. It’s jammed. Can you come open it for us?”

  “Of course, but it will be taking me a while to get there.”

  “How long, grandfather?”

  He thought furiously, doing some fast calculations in his head. “About forty-five minutes, maybe an hour. Can you waiting that long?” There was a pause, and he thought he overheard some whispering.

  “Yes, grandfather. But please hurry.”

  “Everything will be alright, Alisa. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the problem. I promise.”

  “Yes, grandfather. I know you will.”

  He hung up, sat on the edge of the bed and thought for a moment. Standing, he walked over to his computer, moved the mouse and logged on. Double clicking an icon, a set of four video images sprung to life. One showed the patio above the teahouse, one displayed the kitchen, the next showed the cash register, and the last revealed six armed men spread around the dining area. One of them was Bennie DiMarco.

  Yvgenny grabbed his cell phone, selected a number, and hit dial. While it rang, he walked over to the closet and calmly pulled out a KS-K Russian military shotgun. When no one answered, he dialed the second number down the list for the same person.

  O O O

  Rachel, Xen, and I decided to enjoy a casual night of gambling at the Costa Rican hotel. Xen continued to prove himself at the baccarat tables, but he’d taken it easy, so he wouldn’t get kicked out again. I’d played poker, ruining several people, and Rachel broke even at blackjack. We’d gone back to the house, enjoyed another round of cigars and some of the scotch. When the last embers of daylight were gone and the snifters empty, Mag and Xen went down to the beach for some night-fishing while Rachel and I retired to the bedroom.

  We excitedly helped each other out of our clothes, kissing passionately. I slid my hands up her sides and caressed her breasts, drawing a lusty moan out of her. She pulled me back towards the bed, leaning back as I stood there and parted her legs. She grinned wickedly and raised an eyebrow expectantly. I got the hint, kneeled on the floor in front of her and kissed my way up her knees to where she was already wet. I helped things along with my tongue, causing her to pant and moan. For minutes, I worked at it, almost bringing her to a climax.

  She placed her hand on my forehead and pushed me away. “Not yet,” she said seductively. “Come here.”

  I stood up, kneeled on the bed between her legs and kissed her breasts. She moaned again, more so now. She grabbed me by the ass and pulled me down into her. We both moaned as I crossed the threshold, and I thrust in and out of her, slowly at first and then with more force. She wrapped her legs around me and squeezed, forcing my rhythm to keep pace with her ecstasy. I heartily obliged her, increasing my tempo and pumping even harder. Our groans filled the house, and we finally erupted together. We lay together like that for long minutes, kissing each other tenderly.

  I finally rolled off, our legs tangled together, and smiled. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I looked at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

  “Well, it was okay. But once isn’t much of a sampling. If I’m going to make an honest evaluation, I’ll need more data.” She untangled her legs from mine, got up on her hands and knees with her head pointing away from me. She swayed her ass at me. “Think you have another one in you?”

  “I believe I do,” I said rising to the request, “which means you’re about to.”

  “Then come over here and show me what you’re made of.” It was one order I had every intention of obeying.

  We spent the next couple of hours slowly … well, sometimes not so slowly … exploring one another. Rachel stood, bent over with her hands on the bed and me behind her. Just as she approached another orgasm, my cell phone rang.

  “You answer that and I’ll kill you!” she gasped between moans.

  The phone stopped ringing just as she climaxed, her legs shuddering slightly. We stood there for a dozen heartbeats, and then she lay down on the bed, exhausted. “Oh, my god,” she sighed.

  “Is that enough data?” I asked, walking over to the nightstand and picking up my phone. I recognized the number when my house phone rang. I grabbed it quickly.

  “Yvgenny, is that you?”

  “Da,” the old man said. “I need your help, Justin. Right now.” He sounded worried, even scared, and I knew he was in a heap of trouble.

  “Name it and it’s done,” I replied with steel in my voice.

  “Can you be at the teahouse in forty minutes?”

  “I’ll be there in thirty. What’s up?”

  “Bennie and five friends have my granddaughters in the dining room,” he said quickly.

  I felt the old me rise out of the dark pit where I keep him locked up, and he was hungry for Bennie DiMarco.

  Yvgenny sounded calm, but I could tell he had to work to keep it together. “Two have shotguns, the rest pistols,” he continued. “Is it doable?”

  “Of course. I’ll work out the details on the way. You armed?”

  “Da. KS-K with slugs and laser.”

  “Good, that’s perfect,” I replied, my voice full of loathing for Bennie. “Are you in your apartment?”

  “Yes. The bedroom.”

  “Okay. Stay put. I’ll call you when I get there … It’ll be okay, Yvgenny. Trust me.”

  “I do, Justin. That’s why I called you and not anyone else. You’ve never let me down.”

  “And I never will, old man. I’ll see you in thirty.”

  “Thank you, Justin.”

  I set the phone down and looked at Rachel with a look in my eyes that clearly disturbed her.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked, worried.

  I took a deep breath, balancing myself between the old and the new me. “Bennie DiMarco and five other assholes are holding Yvgenny’s granddaughters in the dining room of the teahouse. I’m going to go kill the fuckers.”

  “We are,” she corrected. “We’re a team, aren’t we?” she asked, sounding more hopeful then she meant to.

  The old me faded slightly, and I looked at her, kissing her deeply as I gave her arm a squeeze. “It’s going to take some getting used to, but yeah, we sure are.” I patted her on the butt. “Now go get cleaned up. Can you be ready in ten minutes?”

  “Less,” she said as she rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “Do you have any chopsticks?”

  “What?”

  “Do you have any chopsticks?” she repeated, closing the bathroom door.

  “Yes,” I said, sounding a bit confused. Must be a girl thing, I thought.

  “Good. I’ll need one.” The shower came on.

  “You realize we’re going to kill Italians, not get Chinese takeout, right?” I asked.

  “Mmmmm-hmmmmm,” she replied over the sound of the shower.

  I walked out of the bedroom into the hallway and onto the patio.

  “Mag! I need you,” I hollered into the jungle. Xen came up beside me, rubbing tired eyes. He’d apparently been sleeping on the patio.

  “What’s all the fuss?”

  “A friend is in trouble back home. Rachel and I are going back to take care of it.”

  Mag snaked her way out of the jungle and looked up at me.

  “Want me to go with you?” Xen asked and scratched Mag behind the ears. “I’m starting to get a taste for this shit, damn it.”

  “I thought you might, but not on this one. The equation is full without you. I don’t want to add any variables I don’t absolutely need.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, resigned to sitting on the sidelines.

  “Go get dressed. You’re heading back to the L.A. house, okay? And grab your money, if you haven’t already. If this goes south, you can at least be back in town with some jingle in your pocket. Go see O’Neil if you don’t hear from me by morning. Give him the whole story …” I paused and smiled at him. “Except the alien part,” I added with a chuckle. “And let Marsha know what�
��s up if you see her before I do.”

  “Okay. Is this really that bad?”

  “Probably not, but I like to cover my bases. Go on … the clock’s ticking.”

  Xen walked back into the house as I bent down and looked at Mag with my hands on her head.

  “Playtime tonight, Mag. They’ve got shotguns, so be careful, okay?” She nodded. “And we’ll be at Yvgenny’s. Cougar suit only. Nobody sees the real you.” Magdelain’s coat shifted in the darkness to a solid tan across her whole body except for a white underbelly. I ruffled the fur on her head and went back into the house.

  I grabbed two chopsticks out of a kitchen drawer, headed back to the bedroom, and got dressed. Rachel walked out of the shower just as I slipped my coat on. She wore jeans and one of my t-shits as she dried her still-damp hair, an expectant look on her face.

  “One or two?” I asked.

  “Just one.”

  I grabbed one of the chopsticks I’d thrown on the bed and tossed it at her. She caught it mid-air, threw the towel on the toilet behind her, put the chopstick in her teeth and then quickly braided her long hair. She coiled up the braid, grabbed the chopstick and jammed it through the knot of hair. She made a “voila” motion with her hands and winked at me. I smiled at her.

  God you have a great neck, I thought, taking in the exposed flesh. “Sexy,” I said out loud, looking her up and down like I wanted another taste.

  She raised her eyebrow provocatively.

  “Xen, you ready?” I yelled across the hallway.

  Rachel gave me a disappointed look and then smiled.

  “Sorry, gorgeous. We have to get to work,” I added sadly.

  We met in the hallway and walked out to the front door. I ran through the combination to the L.A. house and pushed open the door. “There you go, Xen.” He stepped through and turned around. He had his bag of money slung over his shoulder. “Remember what I said. If you don’t hear from me by morning, call O’Neil and spill your guts.”