41
Jenna
Nicholas and I lingered at the restaurant after Nathan and Zoey went home. We knew the moment we set foot outside, the FBI would load us back into an SUV and continue our twenty-four-hour-a-day protection. Being protected by the FBI was a lot better than being menaced by Skylark, but it was also difficult to be babysat.
The safe house wasn’t exactly glamorous either. It was functional, but a bit depressing. All the furniture looked like it had been rescued from garage sales, and the art hanging on the wall reminded me of the stuff you saw in doctor’s offices. I was pretty sure the landscape that hung in the bathroom was identical to the one that my gynecologist had in her waiting room.
But aside from the tired décor, the worst part of being protected was that it felt a lot like being imprisoned. We weren’t allowed to make outside calls without telling the FBI exactly who we were calling and why. We weren’t allowed walk down the block to buy a soda. We weren’t even allowed to take Harley out to go to the bathroom without someone coming with us.
As a result, just sitting at a restaurant felt like freedom, even if it was an illusion. If I looked carefully, I could see that the man sitting to our right was wearing an earpiece and that the kitchen was being protected by two tall men in black t-shirts. They were being discrete, but the FBI were all over this place like flies on shit as my Nana used to say. I tried to ignore it.
“I liked meeting Nathan and Zoey,” I told Nicholas as we sat in front of our now-empty coffee cups. “I never thought I would meet an astronaut. He was so normal!”
Nicholas rolled his eyes.
“I almost didn’t want you to meet him,” he admitted. “He was right earlier. Nathan is the cool one; he has a spaceship.”
I giggled.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the cool one,” I told him, “It takes a lot more courage to do what you did in taking on Skylark and Durant Industries than just going to space. Monkeys have been to space!”
Nicholas looked at me skeptically, but then we he saw that I was serious, his gaze turned affectionate. He picked up my hand and kissed the back of it before folding it into his own calloused palm.
“You’re right,” he said in a voice clearly intended to convince himself rather than me. “Monkeys have been to space. And dogs. It’s not that cool at all.”
“Plus, you’re much more handsome than Nathan,” I told him honestly and he grinned. Both men were handsome, but I thought Nathan looked too polished, angular, and uptight. He looked like someone who’d spent a lot of time in the military and polished his shoes every night before bed. Nicholas was much sexier in my opinion.
Even in the face of great stress, I’d learned that Nicholas was quick to smile and find something to keep himself from falling into despair or depression. His good humor was something that I valued a lot since staying positive was what I always tried to do as well. Although I’d only met Nathan tonight, I got the feeling that he was a lot more cynical than Nicholas. Maybe I was overthinking it, but Nicholas seemed to be able to take everything in stride.
“I think Zoey might have wanted to dog-nap Harley, but I really liked her too,” I told Nicholas and he smiled. “It’s cool that she’s a journalist. I’ve never met a reporter I actually liked before. The ones that used to scrounge around Durant Industries after press conferences were always such a pain in the ass.”
In truth, Zoey impressed the hell out of me. She was so polished, well educated, and well spoken. She went to Columbia. Plus, she seemed to be able to guide our conversations so effortlessly. Talking to strangers seemed to come easily to her. I could almost think that she enjoyed it. I wished I possessed that particular ability. I’m not particularly shy or retiring, but it would be really useful in the corporate world to have a bit more of the gift of gab.
“She seems good for Nathan,” Nicholas said, “he’s way less conceited than he used to be.”
The way that Nicholas related to his cousin was a bit odd. They clearly liked one another, but at the same time they were constantly trying to one-up the other too. Maybe growing up with three other boys in the Durant mansion had made them all hyper-competitive. As adults, however, the dynamic between them was half-silly and half-uncomfortable.
“We should probably get back,” Nathan finally said. I nodded sadly.
We rose from the table and just as expected the FBI protection detail reformed around us like they had just materialized from the surrounding walls. So much for the illusion of freedom. I sighed and held Nicholas’ hand as we were loaded back into a nondescript, black SUV and ferried back to the safe house. Nicholas and I had tried to convince them to let us walk the four blocks to the restaurant tonight, but Salvador ruled that it was too dangerous.
When we arrived back at the safe house, our handlers rode all the way up the elevator with us. They did allow us to walk the final few yards from the elevator to the door of the safe house without their supervision. Apparently, the FBI deemed this stretch of hallway to be sufficiently well protected.
42
Nicholas
Harley knew something was wrong long before Jenna or I suspected anything. We hadn’t even opened the door and she was stiff legged and tensely inspecting her surroundings. The hair at the back of her neck stood up, and a low rumble that was totally unlike any vocalization she’d ever made rumbled out of her at an almost sub-audible frequency. I figured she was just doing a weird dog thing. This was, after all, the same dog who enjoyed eating grass, howled at cows, and once brought home a live skunk kit and then acted hurt and confused when I didn’t want to keep her ‘baby’.
When I turned the key in the lock and walked inside the safe house, Harley obstinately refused to follow. Jenna, who was holding her leash, had to grab her by the collar and coax her over the threshold. If only we’d listened to what Harley was trying her best to tell us.
In the middle of the apartment’s small, unstylish living room, Ryan Quin stood casually behind a kneeling and gagged Oliver. He held a low caliber pistol in hand, pointed lazily at Oliver’s neck.
Adrenaline flooded my system in a dizzying instant and time felt like it dilated and slowed before my eyes. Jenna was still a few feet behind me, and the wait for her to come around the corner and see what I was seeing appeared to take ages. Every impulse and instinct in my primitive reptile brain—the only part that was working at the moment—screamed that I needed to protect her from what she was about to see. But even though I seemed to be experiencing time passing at about a third of its average speed, my muscles were not similarly affected. I was frozen to the spot.
Jenna’s panicked, surprised gasp of air knocked me back into the action of the present moment. She was behind me, but the unmistakable sound of her purse hitting the floor told me she was there.
“Did you two have a nice evening?” Ryan asked sarcastically by way of a greeting. For a man I hadn’t seen in more than five years, he clearly wasn’t held up on things like social graces. The pistol was a dead giveaway.
“Oh my god,” Jenna managed before I was able to come up with a response, “Quin, have you completely lost your mind?” She hissed.
He shrugged and rolled his eyes in visible disinterest.
“Richard gave you three so many chances to avoid this outcome,” he snapped irritably, “don’t act like he didn’t. I know he did. And I let him. I practically encouraged him to do it. I wanted you three to run away. But no. You had to get all righteous and stupid. I hope you all realize that this was the last thing I wanted to happen. You’ve brought this outcome entirely on yourselves.”
He was scolding us like we were children. Oliver, from his position on his knees and with a strip of duct tape over his mouth, made a noise that sounded very much like a snide, profanity laden response. Ryan nudged him with the muzzle of his pistol and he fell silent. Clearly, we weren’t meant to interrupt his villainous monologue.
“What do you want?” I finally found the oxygen to ask. It was clearly not
the brightest question to ask at the present moment, but it was all I had.
Richard looked at me like I was the stupidest creature in the world.
“I just told you what I wanted, Nicky,” he said snidely, using the nickname that I’d absolutely loathed as a child and hadn’t even thought about in years, “but we don’t always get what we want. You see, because of you three, I’ve got a massive headache. You created one hell of a mess for me. Not only do I have to rework the entire covert defense program that your father and I put in place with our government partners, but now I’m going to have to clean this all up.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what the ‘clean up’ process was going to entail, but I had a very bad feeling that the pistol featured heavily. The only thing that I could think to do was to keep Ryan talking.
“Covert defense program?” I taunted weakly, “Is that what you call chemical weapons production? That’s awfully euphemistic.”
Ryan sighed deeply.
“Why are moral crusaders always so painfully dumb?” Ryan asked rhetorically. “Weapons are weapons are weapons. They aren’t good, and they aren’t bad. They aren’t sentient. It’s like the whole gun debate. Guns don’t kill people. I kill people, so I should know. Your father and I were doing our patriotic duty to keep America safe. If you knew a quarter of what goes on behind the scenes in this world your little sheltered head would explode. People like me are the reason you sleep soundly at night. The idea that because the gas we created could kill babies just as easily as it could kill Hitler doesn’t make the gas evil.”
“You’re right,” I said feelingly, just to try and keep him from whatever his next step was, “it makes you evil. You’re the one who initiated the violation of an international agreement that hurts our country and the entire freaking world. It’s not the gas’ fault. It’s your fault.”
“Good lord you really are naïve,” Ryan replied. He sounded genuinely disappointed. “Your father said that you would be, of course, but I just didn’t believe it. You had such potential and now you’ve thrown it all away.”
Ryan had given a grade-A, movie-villain speech, but he was clearly losing his patience. He took a step back from Oliver and fiddled with his gun.
“Let Jenna go,” I bargained, lying through my teeth, “she’s innocent. She was only helping me because I asked her to. She’ll keep quiet.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No can do, Nicky,” he answered. His gaze flickered over to Jenna regretfully. “I’ve got my marching orders here. It really isn’t up to me. I hate killing women. It always gives me heart burn. I already took two Pepcid, but I can feel it coming on anyway.”
Before the last word left his lying, evil mouth, I was running. My lagging, rational brain hadn’t properly sorted through either a plan or how I might accomplish it, but the moment that Ryan confirmed his plan for hurting Jenna, instinct had responded. I really didn’t care whether Ryan shot me. I just wanted to hurt him first and give Jenna time to get away.
Ryan hadn’t expected to be rushed, and he was about thirty years older than me. I was also heavier than him, although we were probably about the same height. He was kind of a skinny old guy. I smashed into him with my shoulder, carrying him back with the best tackle I could come up with in less than two seconds. We both fell into the couch and I heard Jenna scream as Ryan and I grappled for the gun in his grip.
Ryan wasn’t faring well in the initial struggle. I played hockey as a kid. My coach would have been proud to see his training come to practical use. I was pretty sure I’d broken Ryan’s left collar bone because his left arm was hanging at a strange, painful-looking angle. Unfortunately, the gun was in Ryan’s right hand. Something had popped incredibly loudly as well when we went down. My ears were ringing with it. I hadn’t realized a bone break could be so loud.
“Jenna go!” I urged, and I heard her scrambling around, probably struggling to help Oliver to his feet and keep Harley contained. She’d started screaming in earnest, probably trying to summon our missing FBI protectors. This was the un-safest safe house I’d ever seen. The FBI really needed to step up their game.
Wrestling a gun away from a sixty-five-year-old man shouldn’t have been as hard as it was proving to be. Ryan was much stronger than he looked. He was, in fact, super strong. Weirdly strong. It wasn’t until I saw the blood dripping down my arm and felt the sticky heat in left palm that I realized that he wasn’t superman--I’d been shot in the hand. There was absolutely no pain. All I felt was anger.
For all it was doing to clarify and focus my mental motivations, the anger wasn’t making me any physically stronger. I managed to get Ryan’s right arm fully extended, but I couldn’t seem to pry his fingers off the gun since my left hand was extraordinarily numb. My entire body was starting to feel increasingly sluggish.
When Harley launched over me to sink her teeth into Ryan’s face, I was barely cognizant. Time and space were beginning to behave very strangely. The whole world was flickering on and off.
I saw Ryan’s face deform under Harley’s jaws. His mouth was hanging open and his neck was corded like he was screaming, but I suddenly couldn’t hear anything.
Everything flickered lick a light being turned off and on again.
I saw Harley looking down at me with her muzzle stained red. She nuzzled me, and I felt her weight pushing own on me, but I couldn’t move.
Flicker. The world went black again for a moment.
Jenna was sitting by my side and pressing her hand against my face as dozens of people swarmed around me. My shirt was gone. Several people were talking to me at once and touching my mangled hand. I couldn’t reply. The fact that I was looking at my hand, and not a chunk of meat attached to the end of my arm, suddenly became frighteningly real.
The world flickered black again, but this time it didn’t turn back on.
Newspaper Clipping
INTERVIEW WITH RICHARD DURANT: Durant Industries CEO on the Allegations Against His Company
By Zoey Atkinson, The Philadelphia Monitor
Editor Zoey Atkinson interviewed former CEO Richard Durant ahead of his surrender to Federal Authorities on Thursday. The following is the transcript of the interview in its entirety. The Philadelphia Monitor is publishing the transcript with the additional disclosure that it is a subsidiary of Durant Industries.
ZOEY ATKINSON: Thank you for doing this.
RICHARD DURANT: My pleasure. I want to set the record straight now. Before the media circus starts.
ZOEY ATKINSON: Simple start. When did Durant Industries become involved in chemical weapons production?
RICHARD DURANT: It began in—it would have been the spring of 1992. I didn’t become aware until three years later, in 1995.
ZOEY ATKINSON: How were you unaware of the production of chemical weapons at your facilities?
RICHARD DURANT: Many of our government contracts go on for many years. Decades, sometimes. This particular program was an extension on an extension on an extension. We procured the original contract shortly after Senator Tom Ellis was elected to office. Tom also sits on the board at Durant Industries, you know. He’d helped us to negotiate the extension under the supervision of the defense contractor Skylark.
ZOEY ATKINSON: I don’t understand. So, Skylark was directly administering the contract? Durant Industries was just providing…what? Space? Resources? Manpower?
RICHARD DURANT: All of the above. Skylark and Durant Industries have worked together for over forty years. It was standard process for Skylark and Durant Industries to subcontract various functions to one another. It was mutually beneficial. Durant Industries had the chemical facilities and scientific expertise, while Skylark had the governmental connections.
ZOEY ATKINSON: Wouldn’t this sort of cooperation violate federal ethics rules for government contractors.
RICHARD DURANT: I don’t know how to answer that question. Probably. I’m not a lawyer. All I know is that this is how it’s frequently done. Durant Industries isn
’t unique in that respect.
ZOEY ATKINSON: Alright. It almost certainly is. But let’s set that aside for the moment. You say that Tom Ellis helped to negotiate the contract? A sitting United States senator was aware of the chemical weapons production?
RICHARD DURANT: He wasn’t just aware of it. Tom was behind it. He’s the majority owner of Skylark, although his ownership is disguised through a number of holding companies.
ZOEY ATKINSON: How does that prove his was behind it?
RICHARD DURANT: Tom sits on a number of committees that receive classified briefings from the military on various projects and covert missions throughout the world. He’s worked for years to make sure that his company, Skylark, is always at the right place at the right time to be awarded government contracts. Durant Industries also benefitted from that advance knowledge. Tom realized that it would be beneficial to develop a stockpile of banned chemical weapons outside of official governmental knowledge and control. So, he made it happen.
ZOEY ATKINSON: What do you mean beneficial? Beneficial to whom?
RICHARD DURANT: To him. To his business interests. To various friends and allies of his in the government. Perhaps to his contacts abroad.
ZOEY ATKINSON: Do you have any proof of Senator Ellis’ involvement in the development of the contract?
RICHARD DURANT: I don’t, no. But Ryan Quin, the CEO of Skylark, has decades worth of proof. I’ve been in numerous meetings with both of them where we discussed everything openly.
ZOEY ATKINSON: How did you become aware of the chemical weapons program?
RICHARD DURANT: It was during a budget reconciliation project in 1995. I stumbled across misallocated revenue, which then led me to determining the real nature of the research and development for something called Project Winterspring.
Down and Dirty (Scions of Sin Book 3) Page 21