Conspiracy

by De'nesha Diamond

He laughed. “I’m the one who gave her your number, remember?”

  Gizella hedged. “Yes. I’m working a case for Ms. Lehane.”

  He weighed his next words. “Does your case have anything to do with Abrianna Parker?”

  Their gazes locked. “Why do you ask?”

  Holder sighed, looked at the folder he held, and handed it over. “Because, if I’m right, she’s in a world of trouble.”

  Stanton Park

  Charlie watched the children play. He smiled, listening to the bubbly laughter. He envied their carefree attitudes and boundless energy. It filled his heart with joy. He missed the days of his youth, when he had his whole life in front of him and the possibilities were boundless.

  Ned walked over and joined him on the bench. “It doesn’t look like she’s coming today, sir.”

  Charlie nodded. “No. I think that’s pretty fair to say. What time is it?”

  “Three o’clock, sir.”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Maybe that whole thing at the airport threw her off schedule?” Ned suggested.

  “Maybe.”

  Silence drifted between them before Charlie asked Ned, “Do you remember what you wanted to be when you were their age?”

  Ned looked at the children. “I think I wanted to be a fireman, sir.”

  Charlie smiled. “A fireman, eh? That’s an admirable profession. What made you decide to pursue science instead?”

  Ned shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t remember, sir. I was just always good in the subject, I guess. Science fairs were like Christmas to me.”

  Charlie chuckled.

  “What about you, sir?”

  “Science,” Charlie answered. “It has always been my first love. I desperately wanted to develop something that could change the world—for the better, of course.” He stood and tucked his sudoku puzzle beneath his arm. “Let’s head out. Maybe Ms. Parker will join me tomorrow.”

  Ned bobbed his head. “Sir, mind if I ask you how much longer you are going to monitor Ms. Parker? Surely, if Dr. Avery’s experiments were working, she would be showing signs by now.”

  “Who said that there hadn’t been any signs?”

  Ned stammered. “Well—I, uh. You never mentioned that she was, Dr. Z.”

  Charlie laughed. “My boy, she shows signs nearly every time we meet. She’s failed to realize it though. Almost daily, we sit here on this bench, talking—and she has yet to realize or notice that sometimes I never move my mouth at all.”

  “Sir?”

  “She can hear my thoughts—which is why I’m always careful of what I’m thinking.”

  Ned’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding. Why, that’s wonderful.”

  Dr. Z shook his head. “She’s been self-medicating, using street drugs to control the buzzing in her head. She hasn’t realized that the buzzing is actual thoughts from the people around her. The more people, the louder the buzzing.”

  “Fascinating, sir.”

  “Yes, yes. Only I’m not at all sure that I can help her control it. It would’ve helped if we had been able to retain Dr. Avery’s notes—but they are lost. Possibly forever.”

  “Did Dr. Avery destroy them?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I have a funny suspicion that his assistant, Alvin, took them, wherever the hell he is.” Charlie sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get back to the lab.” Without the use of his cane, Dr. Charles H. Zacher headed out of the park, perfectly upright—perfectly healthy.

  39

  “I need your help,” Kadir announced to a shocked Ghost as he carried Abrianna into Ghost’s underground bunker.

  Ghost stared at Kadir and the bloody, unconscious woman. “What the hell happened?”

  “Trust me, man. You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.” Kadir spun around in the dark and stonewalled room, looking for a place to lay her down. Three other guys, huddled in front of computers and homemade servers, stopped what they were doing to stare wide-eyed at him too.

  “Where can I put her?” Kadir asked. “She’s been shot.”

  “Shot?” Ghost bolted out of his shock, closed the metal door, and nervously looked around. “You shot her?”

  “No. Not me,” Kadir snapped, offended.

  “Oh.”

  “Where can I put her?”

  “There’s the cot room,” one of the hackers suggested.

  “Where?” Kadir asked, looking around.

  “Follow me.” Ghost led Kadir through a maze of gadgets, wires, and spare parts to the back of the bunker.

  The place was surprisingly larger than it had appeared the first time he was here.

  “There,” Ghost said, opening a door. “You can put her in here.”

  Inside a gray, windowless six-by-eight room sat a solitary cot and a flat pillow. The only problem was that someone was already lying on it.

  “Yo, Roger. Get up,” Ghost barked and kicked the cot.

  Roger groaned. “Whaat?”

  “Get up. We got an emergency, we need the bed.”

  Roger had difficulty processing the request so Ghost helped out by physically grabbing him. “I said get up!”

  “All right. All right. I’m up,” Roger said, while Ghost ushered him out the door.

  “Whoa, man. What happened to her?” Roger asked, swiping the sleep from his eyes as Kadir moved past him.

  “Not your business.” Ghost shoved him toward the door.

  Roger rubbernecked as long as he could, but eventually was hustled out of sight.

  Kadir placed the woman who’d both endangered and saved his life down as gently as he could. After that, he stared at her. Beneath the bruises, swelling, and dry blood, the woman was still an undeniable beauty. Inappropriately, the lower parts of Kadir’s body stirred.

  “Okay. How can I help?” Ghost asked, hovering at the doorway.

  Kadir shook his head and stood. “I have no idea.” He pulled his gaze away. “I’m not a doctor.”

  A blank-faced Ghost stared back. “And I am?”

  Kadir rubbed his shaky hands along the legs of his jeans and willed his brain to squeeze out something—anything.

  “Is the bullet still in her?” a voice asked.

  Ghost and Kadir’s necks swiveled toward Roger, who clearly didn’t know how to mind his own business.

  “I have no idea,” Kadir said, helplessly.

  “Maybe you should check,” Roger suggested.

  “Right.” Kadir’s gaze returned to the unconscious woman, but he didn’t move.

  “C’mon, man. Surely, you didn’t bring her here to watch her die?” Ghost said, not moving toward the woman either.

  Kadir closed his eyes, prayed to Allah, and then kneeled next to the bed. As the woman’s perfect breasts rose and fell, it took a herculean effort not to look. “I need scissors.”

  “Scissors?” Ghost repeated and then looked to Roger.

  He shook his head.

  “We don’t have any scissors,” Ghost informed Kadir.

  Perspiration beaded Kadir’s forehead. Time was of the essence. He took hold of her bloody T-shirt and ripped it open with his bare hands. Her perfect, upturned breasts, encased in a black lace bra, captured the room’s attention.

  “Damn,” Ghost and Roger echoed in sync.

  Kadir tossed an angry glare over his shoulder, “C’mon, guys. Show some decency.”

  Contrite, the men mumbled, “Sorry.”

  Drawing a deep breath, Kadir turned back toward Abrianna and the nasty, pulpy bullet wound in her right shoulder. He leaned forward, trying to eyeball whether it was a clean in-and-out wound.

  “Well?” an anxious Ghost asked. “Is it still in there?”

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Can you feel around?”

  “In the wound?”

  “No. In her toe. Of course in the wound!”

  Kadir hesitated. What if I hurt her? “I should wash my hands.”

  “Man, quit stalling,” Ghost whined.

  “I’m not. She c
ould get an infection!”

  “The break room is around the corner,” Roger said, nodding his head in its direction. “There’s plenty of hand sanitizer in there too.”

  Nodding, Kadir bounded back onto his feet, but when he started to jet out of the room, he saw the men’s hungry gazes were still affixed on Abrianna’s exposed bra.

  “Goddamn it. Do you mind?” He took off his bloody jacket, covered her, and then rushed out. As he squeezed past the two men at the door, Ghost grumbled, “I don’t see the harm in looking.”

  Kadir rolled his eyes. “Just show me where the break room is.”

  “Do you know how long it’s been since we had a female down in here?” Ghost asked, leading the way.

  “All the more reason you should spend more time above ground.”

  “Captain Obvious is in the house,” Ghost grumbled. Roger watched the men disappear around the corner. He thought for a second, looked around, and then crept into the room. At the edge of the cot, he noticed the rapid movement behind her closed eyelids. Was she having some sort of seizure? He didn’t wonder about it for long because his eyes were drawn back to what lay beneath the jacket. Unable to stop himself, he removed Kadir’s jacket.

  “Damn.” Wide-eyed, Roger reached toward the woman’s breasts. His heart pounding, his mouth salivating, he could already feel her luscious mounds. Suddenly, Abrianna’s right hand shot up and she jammed a .45 under his chin.

  “Whoa.” Roger’s hands came up in surrender. His eyes flew to her disturbingly black gaze. He would have to check later, but he was pretty sure that he’d pissed himself. “I—I was just trying to help.”

  The gun dug deeper into his chin.

  “I didn’t mean any harm,” he added.

  She unclicked the safety.

  “You right,” he said as if she’d spoken. “I don’t know what came over me. I—I shouldn’t have disrespected you like that. I’m sorry.”

  Silence.

  “Please, don’t shoot me. I’ll never look at another pair of breasts again in my life. I swear. Just, please, don’t kill me.” He swallowed so hard that he made a gulping sound.

  Kadir and Ghost reappeared at the door.

  “What the hell is going on?” Kadir demanded.

  “A friend of yours?” Abrianna asked, her voice deadly.

  “Uh.” Kadir gazed at the disturbing scene. “I guess that depends on what he did.”

  “Oh, nothing much,” she answered. “Just thought that he could cop a feel on a vulnerable woman. Pretty pathetic, really.” She sat straight up, forcing Roger to ease back.

  “What? Wait. No.” Roger spat out a humorless laugh. “This is just . . . a misunderstanding.”

  “Roger, stop talking and just get out of here,” Ghost ordered.

  “Right. Right.” Roger started to move until Abrianna lifted a brow. “That is, if that’s all right with you, miss?”

  Gaze unwavering, Abrianna lowered her weapon. “Leave.”

  “T-thank you.” Slowly, he crept away from the cot. There was absolutely no question now. He had indeed pissed all over the front of his pants.

  Abrianna wrinkled her nose at the pungent stench, but said nothing as the man turned around with his head hung low in shame.

  Once he was gone, Kadir moved past Ghost to step into the room. “Are you all right?”

  “That depends on your definition,” she stated, swinging her legs over the side of the cot.

  “Right now, it means: are you in any pain?”

  “Life is fucking pain. Surely you’re old enough to have learned that by now.” She glanced down at her bloody shoulder and, without hesitation, stuck two fingers in and dug around.

  Ghost and Kadir watched and winced as if they were feeling what she clearly wasn’t.

  A minute later, she successfully pulled out the bullet and stared at it. “Amazing that something so little can cause so much damage.” She looked over at the stunned men. “You got something I can patch my shoulder up with?”

  Neither man spoke.

  “Hello?”

  “Uh . . .” Kadir looked at his buddy.

  “Alcohol, needle—thread?” she added for clarification.

  “I don’t think . . . I can send one of the guys out for some,” Ghost suggested.

  “Why don’t you do that, Einstein?”

  The men exchanged another look before Ghost sighed. “You owe me,” he told Kadir. “Big time.”

  Kadir nodded and watched his friend scramble off.

  Abrianna glanced around. “So where did you find this broom closet?”

  “Sorry. I can’t answer that.”

  She shifted her gaze to him. “Why is that?”

  “I could tell you . . . but then I’d have to kill you.”

  Only one corner of her lips curled upward. “You might have to get in line for that today.” She stood and rotated her neck, making it sound like a handful of candy rocks popping. “So let me guess, this place is off the grid?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “So that makes you and your friends, what? Criminals?”

  “Ex-criminal. Well . . . at least I am.”

  “Believe it or not, that actually makes me feel better.”

  Kadir crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Is that because you’re a criminal yourself?”

  “I could answer that.” She smiled. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

  His gaze lowered to the gun still in her hand.

  She laughed and clicked the safety back on. “Relax. I’m not going to kill you and your perverted friends.”

  “Thanks for putting my mind at ease,” he deadpanned. “Mind if I ask what you plan on doing?”

  Abrianna pulled in a breath and thought the question over. “The only thing I can do: figure out who’s trying to kill me.”

  Kadir drank in the woman’s statuesque beauty and couldn’t imagine who would be crazy enough to want to have her killed. He also noticed how dilated her eyes were. Was she high? She seemed different. Almost robotic. “Well, I wish that I could help, but I have my own set of problems. More so now that I don’t have a car to make a living.”

  “Sorry about that,” she said, not looking sorry at all. “Give me a few hours and I’ll see about reimbursing you or getting it replaced.”

  Kadir’s laughter filled the room. “No offense, lady, but uh . . . after you’re patched up, I’m cool if we never see each other again.”

  “See. Now you’re hurting my feelings.” She smirked.

  “Don’t take it personal.”

  “Trust me. I won’t.” She took another look around, but the silence grew uncomfortable.

  “What’s your real name?” he asked. “I mean, if that’s not privileged information, too.”

  She drew in a deep breath. “I’m called a lot of things,” she said flippantly. “But it’s Abrianna. My friends call me Bree.”

  “Is that what we are now? Friends?”

  “Well . . . you did just save my life. I’d say that puts us on the fast track.”

  He nodded. “I’d say it was nothing, but that would be a lie.”

  She smiled.

  “Abrianna,” he repeated, liking the way it rolled off the tongue. “Nice. It’s quite beautiful. It suits you.”

  She cocked her head. “Are you flirting with me?”

  “I—I, uh . . .”

  The sound of boots slapping on concrete stole their attention. Ghost reappeared at the door with a brown paper bag.

  “Got what you asked for,” Ghost said, grinning at Abrianna, who still stood by the cot, shirtless. He approached, googly-eyed, as if he’d be rewarded with a kiss or a pat on the head for his trouble.

  Kadir noted her effortless effect on men and frowned. He also experienced a stir of jealousy when she turned her smile toward Ghost.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  She returned to the edge of the bed and dumped out the bag’s contents. She w
ent for the bottle of alcohol first, opened it, and doused her entire shoulder without flinching. The men watched in amazement as she sterilized a needle, threaded it, and then proceeded to patch the hole in her shoulder. All without flinching or making a sound.

  “She’s not fucking human,” Ghost mumbled.

  “You might be right,” Kadir whispered back.

  When Abrianna finished, she splashed more alcohol over the stitched wound and then used medical tape to secure a cotton bandage.

  “How in the hell do you know how to do all that?” Kadir asked.

  “A life on the streets, baby. I’ve patched plenty of bullet wounds in my time.”

  “It doesn’t hurt?” Ghost asked.

  “Like a muthafucka,” she answered. “But what are you going to do?”

  The sound of more rushing feet grabbed everyone’s attention.

  “Turn on the TV,” ordered Roger, who was now wearing a pair of gray sweats, before rushing toward the small nine-inch television sitting on a stack of plastic crates in the corner of the room.

  Bree tensed, suspecting that the murder at the Hay-Adams had hit the news. Instead, a reporter stood in front of the Reagan National Airport with the words BREAKING NEWS and TERRORIST ATTACK emblazoned across the bottom of the screen.

  “What is this?” Kadir asked, surprised that it wasn’t the insane car chase that he and Abrianna had escaped in the past of hour.

  “What? You don’t know?” Ghost asked. “Where have you been?”

  Kadir raised a brow.

  “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

  “CNN has obtained exclusive video from Reagan National Airport’s exterior security cameras. It’s one piece of evidence that the authorities are looking at as they search for suspects. So far, the death tally is at three hundred and eighteen people with an additional two hundred wounded. More than six terrorist groups have claimed responsibility, but authorities say that it is too soon to know for sure which group is really behind the twin blasts. These photos released by the police are at the top of federal authority’s suspects list. The two men in black are the suspected suicide bombers while this man can be seen leaving after helping the men load the suspected bombs onto airport luggage carts.”

  Kadir’s jaw dropped.

  In the next instant, the image was blown up on the screen and there was no doubt to anyone in that cramped room who it was.