The Device

by Maria Siopis

  They waited for the sound, any sound, indicating that the door was opening. Gregory glanced at the lock, preparing to break it and gain access to the interior of the building. Unexpectedly, the door opened, and an older man appeared at the entrance. Was fate on their side? He was all business-like and serious, and explaining the situation to him was not of any importance at that moment. Fiona presented her badge, pushed him to the side, and ran like the devil was chasing her, taking steps two at a time as Gregory followed her.

  When they reached the third floor, they approached the door of apartment four, which was located to the far right of the stairway. Fiona drew her gun. She was out of options.

  “What are you doing?” The old man had followed them and placed his body in front of the door.

  “Keep quiet. This is a police investigation. Please go to your apartment,” Fiona murmured.

  “I’m the owner of this building. Do not,” he emphasized his words, “break the door. I’ll bring the keys,” he reassured them.

  Perhaps unlocking the door quietly was better than breaking it? Fiona grabbed the keys as soon as the old man returned. She inserted the key and heard the bolts turning. She gently pushed the door open. The old man was watching like a hawk to make sure damage was not done to his building. Gregory motioned for him to go. The stubborn man refused to leave and held the door as they both progressed inside. The apartment was a contradiction of what Fiona was expecting. The apartment was luxurious and just the right fit for a wealthy man’s son.

  They passed the kitchen and walked the short hallway to the living room. There was no one to greet them, and that was a good thing because a bloodbath would have been unavoidable. They had the element of surprise on their side, and a surprise attack could avoid a deadly encounter. When they thought they were in the clear and poised to enter the bedroom, the old man interfered by calling Phil’s name. Phil appeared and took aim at the intruders. His gun discharged twice, hitting the old man precisely in the head and heart. He was dead, but those shots proved to be Phil’s downfall. Gregory was now aware of Phil’s exact location, and he had no intention of missing his target. He pulled the trigger four times, finding his target with each shot. They cautiously approached Phil’s body, which now grotesquely soiled the floor and checked his pulse. His heartbeat was gone, silenced forever.

  Fiona was still on the floor next to the bedroom door where Phil’s body lay, and she quickly looked inside. What she witnessed was her worst nightmare coming forcefully alive. Their person of interest, the older, bottom-heavy woman with the distinctive, short hair was holding a gun, presumably one of Phil’s, to Sophie’s head.

  “I promise to destroy you. Now, hush for good, you fool.” Her utterance was perplexing and sounded crazy to Fiona. Who was she talking to?

  Nevertheless, seeing Sophie’s unmoving, naked body messed up Fiona’s mind, and she didn’t give a fuck if she made it out alive. She retreated to the side again, stretching up against the wall next to the bedroom’s door. She checked her gun and jolted forward, firing her weapon. She didn’t ask the woman to surrender or drop her weapon, and that reaction was out of character. She had always promoted safety for both the perpetrators of crimes and their victims. Today, her fairness switch was turned off, and her rage was as vast as the cosmos.

  She took aim and killed the woman, who was threatening the one she loved. The woman’s body landed at Sophie’s side. Fiona placed the woman’s body on the floor and checked Sophie’s pulse. Sophie was still alive and Fiona gently stroked her face. She turned to Gregory and screamed, “Eighty-five!” The dreadful code had to be dispatched. She kissed Sophie’s forehead while her eyes watered. “Please, please,” she whispered, “stay with me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Everything is fucked, Dr. Taylor thought. His personal life was taking a nose dive, his career would become extinct, and he had indirectly caused the death of some of his patients. He was broken. If he neatly compared the events that took place the last few days his insignificance would be exposed. He looked at the keyboard in front of him. His mind knew exactly what action he had to take, but his hands and fingers were frozen. Of course, that was his imagination; his extremities worked well, only his brain was disorganized. He had to amend his will, so he could stop the killings. He knew the time was furiously approaching, and his last attempt to correct the commands of his device had to take place. He touched the keys, just brushing them, almost afraid to type the code. This was the end—a treacherous end—of the life and career he had once known. He had to admit defeat, and that pissed him off more than his failure to protect his device. He tapped the keys as he recalled the command screen where the code had to be inserted.

  “I wouldn’t do it, Dr. Taylor,” a voice came from behind him.

  He turned to face a handsome man in his fifties with silvery hair. He was well dressed although in casual clothes, and Dr. Taylor gazed at the man’s watch. It was expensive. He knew because he had one just like it. Did it matter if the man was wealthy or not? What truly mattered at that moment was the strange man wanted to stop him or kill him. He was holding a gun pointed straight at his heart.

  “Dr. Taylor, let me introduce myself. I’m Xristos Galifalos.”

  He is going to kill me. How else could he possibly stop me? Why did he introduce himself? Dr. Taylor’s mind was working intensely and readying him for a last stand of defiance. He hoped that the man, who appeared to be a proper gentleman and following protocols, would listen. Perhaps, he could delay him?

  “I work for Aria Pharmaceuticals, and we are upset with your device. We suggested you stop your research. We tried, we really did.”

  Of course! Dr. Taylor had received e-mails and threats, but he overlooked them all, not considering them valid. He kept his operation tight and questioned his scientists, who all assured him of their devotion.

  “Well, I’m here to implement our threats.”

  “What are you going to do?” Dr. Taylor knew he was about to meet his fate. Death was catching up with him, but he didn’t mind. He felt it was a fair price to pay. Nonetheless, he had to stop the man; otherwise, he would go down in history as the doctor of death, like Jack Kevorkian. He had to delay this man until he figured out how to input the data.

  “Why?”

  “Dr. Taylor. Don’t be naïve. Psychotic medication is a billion-dollar industry. You really thought you could destroy our industry with your invention?”

  “I thought we had to try harder to provide the best care for our patients.”

  “You sound either altruistic or stupid. Dr. Taylor I know what you are. I was at the Excalibur celebration. You want to make history. You are seeking status, power, and most importantly, immortality.”

  Dr. Taylor wanted to defend himself, but could he mount a defense when the statements were true? His desire was to make history and have his name survive throughout humanity, even ten thousand years from now. How naïve and idiotic he was to believe in such trivial concepts.

  “I’m sorry it came down to this,” Xristos aimed his gun and prepared to fire his weapon.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  There were at least twenty cruisers in front of Phil’s apartment. The code, when dispatched, created bedlam in every police department. Code eighty-five was sacred, and police officers reacted to save one of their own. Fiona heard and screamed the number more times than she liked to remember. It was unbearable to see one of your own down. “Sophie,” she whispered into the night. She took few minutes to compose herself before she asked that the cruisers be moved to unblock her car. She had to move fast and travel to the city to check on Dr. Taylor, although her heart was heavy with worry. She was leaving Sophie behind with Gregory. The EMT assured her that Sophie’s condition wasn’t life-threatening. Fiona kissed her girlfriend’s forehead and told her she loved her. Sophie was unconscious and pale. Fiona turned her back and ran with the thought of Dr. Taylor. She had to make sure the doctor was successful in stopping the massive catas
trophe. She would explain to Sophie later, and she was certain she would understand. After all, they were in the same business.

  Fiona kicked her car into drive and floored the gas. She was thankful she was closer to the city, and she took the 59th Street bridge that would land her in midtown. She thought she would be able to make it to the lab within twenty-five minutes without traffic. She zoomed through the streets, bypassing red lights. Her recklessness almost got her into accidents, only her driving skills saved her. Her justification was noble. She recalled the last few months and the times she broke the rules she had so avidly advocated during her career. She was not above the law. She was merely an enforcer, who lately, was bending the rules. Surprisingly, no regrets shadowed her tormented mind, not even about the death of the woman with the short hair, who had threatened Sophie’s life.

  She glanced at the clock again as she reached the bottom of the bridge. Her mind was occupied, and she completely missed the best view of midtown. She had to travel downtown and avoid the tourist traps. If the holiday season had not been looming, she would have made it without much effort. Damn the holidays, the window decorations, the Rockefeller tree, Macy’s, Saks Fifth Avenue, Lord and Taylor, and all the stores! She avoided the human traffic that even a wintery night couldn’t keep away and capriciously took FDR drive. It proved to be the best decision she had made for a long while.

  Fiona arrived at the lab that would have looked completely vacant, if she discounted the two cars parked at the front. She processed the scene. There was a feeling nipping inside her, and that was not a good omen. She reached the door and glared at the security panel, a square box with illuminated keys. Her heart skipped a beat. She was certain that trying to figure out the code would be impossible and calling Mrs. Taylor to obtain it would waste time she really didn’t have. Fiona wasn’t impetuous in any way. She usually evaluated everything before any action was taken, but lately, everything seemed to be outside her usually classified arrangement.

  “Fuck!” she shouted, pointing her gun at the panel and pulling the trigger. The door unlocked without any further resistance. She entered as the alarm exploded with sounds and commands. The lights illuminated the exterior and interior of the building in a majestic way. Fiona once again made an uncharacteristic entrance and realized she was walking a dangerously thin line. The police department was notified and would arrive within seconds. There was a precinct a few blocks away, and as a precaution, she pulled her badge to have it ready before they shot her, believing her to be an intruder. She entered the elevator and pressed the B button in a decision to go down rather than up. She concealed her body in the right lip of the elevator where all the floor buttons were and took a quick look when the elevator completely stopped. When the door opened, she saw the control room in front of her. The sign above the door was a clear indication, and the door was wide open. She stepped out, hitting the floor like a baseball player trying desperately to reach the base before his opponent. The gun shots came from the left as she was sliding into the control room where Dr. Taylor’s body lay. She looked at Dr. Taylor, who was gasping for air and pointing toward the terminal above them.

  “The code–”

  “The code is on the desk?”

  Dr. Taylor sighed and closed his eyes. Fiona remained on the floor, thinking if she attempted to get up, she would no doubt be hit. The half glass walls of the room provided her no coverage. She raised her arm while still laying on the floor and patted the desk in a desperate attempt to locate the code. Was it on a piece of paper? Bullets flew in her direction. She waited for silence and then rose, aimed, and pulled the trigger several times while looking on the desk for a piece of paper or something that held the vital command information. She grabbed it as she descended to the floor once again while specks of glass spectacularly followed her. Where the fuck are the police? she wondered.

  She breathed a few times before she rose again and fired her weapon. She grabbed the keyboard and collapsed on the floor a second time ... or was it a third time? She was losing count of her actions. She glared at the piece of paper in her hand and then typed the command, but before she could hit the enter key, the police arrived.

  “Over here.” She held her badge high for them to see. With her right index finger, she quickly pressed the enter button. Only then, did she realize that she had lived through the longest day of her life.

  The police chased Xristos and apprehended him. He was handcuffed and placed in a cruiser for processing at the precinct. Dr. Taylor was lifted and placed in an ambulance, still painstakingly breathing. An oxygen mask was placed over his mouth, and he looked as pale as if all the blood had drained from his body. Fiona squeezed his hand before she left to meet with fellow investigators that were dispatched to the scene inside the building. She spent less than half an hour talking to them and then exited Dr. Taylor’s lab. The outside lights were brighter than ever, and since she had destroyed the security display, there was no way of stopping the alarm from emitting its deafening sounds. The security company would hopefully arrive soon and stop the annoying sounds before the apartment buildings around them lodged a massive complaint. The chill in the air made her feel alive, a prospect she had almost forgotten the last few hours. She retrieved her phone from her pocket, intending to call Gregory to inquire about Sophie, when she suddenly realized she hadn’t heard from Jennifer. She knew Jennifer was fully capable of defending herself; nevertheless, she dialed Jennifer’s number and counted the rings. There were four rings before she was redirected to her voice mail. That was strange. Fiona had advised Jennifer to call as soon as she left Matthew’s apartment, and she had asked her to have her cell phone accessible at all times. She didn’t want to consider that Jennifer might be in trouble. She walked to her car as great anxiety overcame her. Her thoughts were incoherent, and she needed a distraction to stop the thoughts. She saw the report on her car’s passenger seat and picked it up. She glanced at the pages listing the recipients of the device, her mind occupied and at ease now, but her breath caught when she read the last name on the second page ... Matthew Callagan. Her world was crashing around her, and her body was broken. It was as if a truck had driven over her and shattered every bone. Her heartbeat increased, and an unedified fear took over her whole existence. She was an idiot. She was rushing to conclusions without evidence. Her logic returned, and she called Gregory to tell him she was going over to Matthew’s apartment. Jennifer was missing in action. She inquired about Sophie’s recovery and smiled when Gregory disclosed that she had called Fiona’s name more than once, even though she was still groggy from all the medications the doctors pumped into her body as they removed the nails.

  “Meet you at Matthew’s. I’m leaving now. The doctors don’t want anyone disturbing her tonight.” Gregory hung up and Fiona held her phone closer to her ear a minute longer than necessary.

  * * *

  Gregory arrived at the apartment first because he was closer; the hospital was only ten city blocks away. The doorman picked up the internal phone to announce his arrival. He let the phone ring while he gazed at Gregory.

  “No one is home. Come back another time.”

  Gregory didn’t see any need for urgency. He would entertain the doorman, who lazily replaced the receiver. Besides, rushing upstairs probably wasn’t a necessary action since Jennifer was a capable, well-trained FBI agent, and Fiona hadn’t appeared alarmed when he spoke with her. He finally flashed his badge and told the doorman, an older man in his sixties with piercing blue eyes, that he needed to inspect the property.

  “Don’t ask me to follow you or open the door,” he stated. “I’m retiring soon, and I like to keep well away from situations, particularly police business.” He handed Gregory the keys.

  “I understand.” Gregory held the doorman’s gaze. Was he sincere, or was laziness what prevented him from following? He approached the elevator, amused by the encounter.

  Gregory reached the apartment’s door, knocked a few times, then unlocked the d
oor, confident that no one was inside, and Fiona was overreacting. Matthew’s dwelling was spacious and surrounded by windows that provided a panoramic view of the city, much like Fiona’s. There was no hallway. Guests walked into a vast room filled with sofas and love seats, a bar was set up near the windows, and an open kitchen was on the right. Gregory thought the open space looked hideous without separating walls. There was an arched doorway at the other end of the apartment, which probably connected this space to the rest of the apartment. He headed toward it and discovered it connected to the master bedroom. The light seeping in from the open space behind him illuminated half of the room. He walked in, and what he saw made his heart skip a beat.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The suitcases were ready by the time Peter arrived with his SUV, and he loaded them into the car. Mrs. Taylor told her kids that uncle Peter was driving them to their destination. They looked puzzled to see him since he had ceased visiting their house two years ago, but they both followed their mother and entered the vehicle.

  “Daddy said he was coming home. Why can’t we wait to say goodbye?” little Tim’s voice innocently filled the car.

  “Because Mommy already made plans, and besides, Daddy is busy with his project. I told Samantha where we are going, so he can reach us if he has time.”

  Hopefully, he was going to be dead as a doornail. She felt no guilt or regret about being the cause of so many people dying or preparing to die. It wasn’t her direct involvement, she assured herself. She only supplied Aria Pharmaceuticals with the new developments of her husband’s project. She never pulled the trigger; she was innocent. Peter was the one who had engaged in detailed discussions with the pharmaceutical company and had written the deadly code.