Nexus

by Ryan W. Aslesen

  The three smokers finished their butts and walked toward the door. Get with the herd. He held the door open for them, then followed them inside. All three were black, so he didn’t exactly fit in, yet he had to try. The lone man in the group mentioned something to one of the women, his wife perhaps, about the Washington Nationals getting a new pitcher via a trade.

  “Good thing that happened,” Max said. “I was worried the trade wouldn’t go through.”

  “I know, right?” the man responded. He seemed good-natured and talkative enough. “I’m thinkin’ he’s Cy Young material here in a couple years.”

  “Me too. And we really need some depth in the bullpen.”

  The guy fell back next to Max, who got the feeling his wife wasn’t much for talking baseball. “They wanna make him a closer, but he might be better as a starter.”

  “Eh, I wouldn’t worry.” Max waved a hand. “With that fastball he’s gonna be a threat wherever they put him.”

  “His slider’s no slouch either.”

  Meanwhile, the guard, no doubt bored stiff, had turned his back, talking to the woman at the info desk. Max and his new pal walked past unmolested, though the guard did glance back at them once before he returned to talking up the receptionist. If the feds had given Max’s description to security, then his disguise had worked. He had purchased black hair dye and a canister of spray tan at the store and applied them in the restroom, hoping to pass himself off as Hispanic or Mediterranean descent. A pair of horn-rimmed pharmacy reading glasses of minimal magnification completed his disguise. He thought the spray tan made him look more orange than Italian, but if the guard bought it, then others might too.

  Still he wasn’t about to become complacent. His tall, muscular build might easily betray him to even the dullest federal agent.

  Having hurdled the first obstacle, Max stuck with the man for a couple more minutes before bidding farewell, still clueless as to the pitcher’s identity. Consulting a map directory on a kiosk, he noted the various stairwells and exits, finding that he’d parked in the best spot. It also confirmed his memory of a ninety-degree turn in the hallway a short distance from Leet’s room.

  He needed to move quickly. The feds might be watching him even now on monitors in the security control room.

  Max looked over the map one final time before he moved. Leet’s room wasn’t far from the stairway he would have to carry her down. All he needed was a deserted spot on the ground floor not too far from the ER. He studied the map and selected a handicap-only restroom.

  Nonchalant, he made the short walk, just another guy at the hospital visiting an injured friend. The never-ending bustle of the ER could be heard down the deserted hallway. He stepped in the bathroom, locked the door, and got to work.

  Of the myriad ways to infiltrate a stronghold, the time-tested diversion was still one of the best. This one would be a doozy, though he would have preferred to place the explosives in a more isolated area. He’d wanted to use firecrackers to harmlessly simulate gunfire, but the Commonwealth of Virginia had banned their purchase. Fortunately, the low traffic of a hospital in the dead of night counterbalanced the threat of incidental casualties. If he saw anyone coming when he departed, he would inform them the cleaning staff was busy mopping inside.

  No need for concealment, he placed the small block of C-4 and its detonator in the sink, then set the digital timer for two minutes. As he watched the first few seconds tick away on the timer, he ruminated that he was probably wanted for numerous crimes committed during the course of this mission. Now they can add domestic terrorism to the list. But it had to be done. Abandoning Leet to the feds was not an option; his conscience would never forgive him. Fuck it.

  Thankfully, the hallway remained deserted. He walked to the stairwell at the end of the hall, ducked into an alcove before a door labeled PROSTHETICS, the room beyond dark through the window. He pulled the .380 from his ankle holster and waited, watched the seconds count down on his watch.

  3… 2…

  The report of the explosion was tremendous, as if a howitzer had been fired in the hallway. He stepped from the alcove in the immediate aftermath, saw the door blown off its hinges and lying on the floor just before smoke obscured his view. Screams drifted to him from the ER, total bedlam ensuing. Max fired six shots, erratically spaced, through the window into the prosthetics lab, then turned and hauled ass for the stairs.

  ***

  The painkillers in the IV bag hanging next to Leet’s bed kept her locked in a constant, groggy high, which would have been nice had they completely eliminated her pain. But they’d taken her off the morphine in the aftermath of her operation. She supposed it was for the best, hospitals finally acknowledging the opioid epidemic and keeping such prescriptions to a minimum.

  Her new drugs left her just coherent enough to understand her predicament. Neither of the agents guarding her had explained her situation, but she’d gotten the gist through bits and pieces of their conversation. A warrant had been issued for her arrest, though the charges remained a mystery. She would be moved under guard to a detention facility when the doctor approved her discharge, likely within the next twenty-four hours. Neither agent had attempted to question her; likewise she hadn’t spoken to them at all, pretending to be drug addled even when somewhat coherent.

  The agents’ conversations revealed other things too. Their names: Green and Hobson. She didn’t remember meeting either of them, but the name Green rang a bell. It had taken her over an hour to figure it out: he had stolen something from them, which she later remembered was a case full of Monopoly money. After that, other pieces of her previous mission slowly fell into place, though gaping holes still punctured the tale in places. She remembered Shai—how could she ever forget him?—as well as Max something-or-other, her partner after Don died.

  Max and Shai were gone now. Arrested? Probably. And Shai, she recalled, had turned out to be a robot. No, that’s not the word… android. She shook her head, held back tears. Keep him safe, Max, wherever you two are. She hoped they were free, that Max would do a better job of guarding Shai than she had.

  “Christ, this is boring,” said Green through his closely cropped black beard. He put down his phone and leaned back in the vinyl chair.

  “It’ll be over soon,” said Hobson, a lanky young agent who stood just inside her door. He would poke his bespectacled face out into the hallway every thirty seconds or so, not quite as vigilant as he’d been during daylight hours, yet a far cry from Green, the complaining veteran. She figured Hobson was new to the Bureau, not much younger than she was, for he still possessed an inexperienced agent’s zeal for duty. She also believed he was clean, unassociated with the dirty agents working for Fisher. A tense, distrustful space seemed to separate the two agents, keeping them from gelling and working equally hard as agents on a job should. I’ll use it to my advantage… if I get a chance.

  Then again she might be wrong, Hobson’s good character only a drug-induced delusion. But whether she was right or wrong, the young agent plainly believed whatever lies he’d been told about her being a corrupt agent. Can you blame him? What would you believe if you were in his shoes?

  Green yawned. “Not soon enough. The wheels of justice are slow, rookie. But she’s gonna get what’s coming to her.”

  Hobson turned to stare at him. “If she’s convicted after due process.”

  With a chuckle Green said, “Ah yes, forgive me. After due process. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get some sleep.”

  “Fire away.” Hobson turned his back on Green, stood squarely blocking her door as he scanned the hallway left and right.

  A short while later, as Leet began to drift off to sleep, the building shook.

  “What the fuck!” Green shouted, popping up from the chair.

  “It felt like a bomb!” Hobson said.

  Green drew his pistol. “No shit! And I know why. Ahlgren’s here.”

  Leet was inclined to agree
with him. Her lips turned up in a faint smile. Ahlgren, that’s his last name.

  “You don’t know that for sure!” Hobson shot back. “I’m gonna call it in and request backup. It could be a terror attack.”

  “Wake the fuck up, rookie; it’s him! I know it’s him! There’s no time for that!”

  “I’m gonna go check it out.”

  “Uh-uh. You’re staying right here. That’s an order.”

  Hobson turned away, peeked into the hallway. “You! FBI!” He stepped out and flashed his credential, enough authority to stop the security guard running down the hallway. Chaos crackled through the speaker on the guard’s radio. “What’s the situation?”

  “Bomb exploded, first floor near the ER. Shots fired!”

  “We’re on it!” the newly minted agent assured him.

  “I’m gonna call the office,” Green said, hysterical. “Don’t you fucking leave!”

  Hobson gaped at his superior. “We have to investigate. It’s our job. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Scared shitless, maybe?

  Green ignored his question. “You’re gonna stay right—”

  “No, I’m going. Your dereliction will be mentioned in my report!”

  “Get back…”

  Hobson was gone.

  “Shit, shit!” Green held his phone in one hand, his pistol in the other. He couldn’t decide which to use. His eyes fell on Leet. “What the fuck are you smiling about?” He pointed his pistol at her.

  “You’re fucked.”

  “And you’re gonna die!” He hit a prompt on his phone and raised it to his ear, keeping the gun on Leet as he stood by the foot of her bed.

  A massive figure plowed into the room. It might have been the drugs, but Leet swore she’d never seen a man so large move so fast. Despite his change in appearance, Leet recognized Max quickly enough by his build and his savage fighting style. He slammed into Green, put his shoulder into the agent’s chest, and bowled him back into the wall. Green’s gun arm flailed. He fired two panicked shots, both striking the ceiling. Max pivoted, snatched Green’s right forearm in both hands. An instant later Green was howling, his arm bent thirty degrees. The gun fell from his grasp.

  “Oh it’s you!” Though Max growled the words, he sounded quite pleased.

  Green landed a punch with his working left arm that tagged Max hard on the chin and snapped his head to the side for an instant. Max didn’t seem to feel it, wasn’t dazed in the slightest. He easily avoided a knee intended for his crotch, then hit Green with the hardest backhand Leet had ever seen, following with punches to the jaw and gut. Blood spattered the antiseptic white walls in nonsensical patterns as the merciless beating continued.

  Though no slouch with his fists, Green lacked the height and strength to challenge Max as an equal. Soon he stood pinned to the wall, gasping and bleeding profusely, completely at Max’s mercy. Not the place to be. Max seized his broken right arm and hefted Green aloft, took two steps toward the window, and tossed him.

  Some last-instant floundering by Green threw off Max’s aim so instead of flying through the window to plummet to his death, the squirming man landed with a grunt atop the air conditioning unit. He tried to flop off to escape, only to find himself grabbed and held aloft once again. Max body slammed him to the floor and then proceeded to stomp him into the tiles, kicking his ribs to splinters before finally dropping down to his level.

  Leet sat up in bed, a painful ordeal, to get a better view. Max would murder Green, and justly so. She would have loved to see it, but a warning sounded in her head. No! He can’t do that!

  “I’ve been dreaming of this,” Max said before dropping a monstrous right fist into Green’s face. He continued to pummel the dirty agent, transforming his mug into bearded and bruised pudding.

  When Max poised his thumbs over Green’s eyes and prepared to drive them straight into his brain, Leet found the strength to speak. “Max!” The effort of shouting caused her great pain. “Stop! They’ll know… know it was you. They’ll charge you with murder. Don’t!”

  Max looked up at her yet didn’t say a word. After a few moments he nodded and turned his attention back to Green, thumbs still poised for the killing jabs. “Looks like it’s your lucky day.” He spat in Green’s bloodied and demolished face. “But I wouldn’t get used to it. You’re on my list, Green. If I were you, I’d skip the country.”

  With that, Max raised Green’s head and then brutally slammed his skull to the floor, knocking him completely senseless. Leet feared that Green would die from the beating alone. And there were other matters to worry over as well.

  “Hurry,” she said to Max. “The other agent might come back.”

  “Is he one of them?”

  “No, I think he’s clean, a rookie.”

  Like a true professional, Max snapped out of his murderous rage in a heartbeat. “Understood. Let’s get you out of here.” He rose and moved to her bedside.

  A faint, tinny squawk emanated from the floor. Not Green, but rather the phone he’d dropped. “Green?” said the speaker. “Green what the fuck? Status report!”

  Max gritted his teeth, face contorted in anger. One mighty stomp of his boot scattered broken bits of smartphone across the floor. “I hope it was insured.”

  Leet laughed, wincing at the intense pain.

  “See that? I’m the best medicine there is.” He disconnected her from various monitors and tubes. “Let’s get you out of here before the cops show up and cordon this place off.”

  “I’m with you on that.”

  Max chuckled. “As if you have a choice.”

  The pain hit her hard as he lifted her. Out in the hallway people shouted, screamed, cursed, ran about in fear and confusion like a herd of frightened deer. She passed out from the pain before they even reached the stairs.

  CHAPTER 20

  Max sat at the farmhouse table in Otto’s rather rustic kitchen, eating bacon and eggs and dreading the upcoming conversation with Leet that was bound to morph into a confrontation.

  She had remained unconscious during the drive to North Carolina and for another day after that. Completely drained from battles, chases, and guilt, Max had likewise crashed for nearly twenty-four hours after reaching Otto’s house. His trials would resume momentarily, however, for Leet had awakened. He heard muffled voices from down the hall, where she talked behind a closed door with Otto’s girlfriend Linda as the nurse saw to her recovery.

  “How is she?” Max asked Linda when she entered the kitchen a few minutes later.

  “All piss and vinegar,” she said from the sink, washing her hands. “She should be up and walking again by tomorrow.” Otto had bagged himself one solid woman. He deserves as much.

  “I can’t thank you enough for this.”

  “You won’t say that when I mail you the bill.” She smiled at him beneath glistening blue eyes, but the amused expression fell from her face an instant later. “She’s asking about the boy. I played it off as best I could, but she knows something’s up.”

  “Sorry to put you on the spot like that. I’m going to tell her right now.”

  “It’s okay; I was expecting it. The first question guys would ask when they woke up in the field hospital was what happened to their buddies.” Linda had been a nurse in the Navy for several years before moving back to the civilian world to make a better living. She’d seen her share of ugly shit, trauma both physical and mental, and knew how to approach these matters tactfully. “Try to take it easy on her. She’s still in a delicate condition.”

  “I’ll do my best.” It won’t be good enough.

  “I’m gonna get ready for work. Where’s Otto?”

  “Said he was going to the feed store.”

  She laughed. “He’s got plenty of feed. I think he just goes there to bullshit with the old timers.”

  Otto didn’t live off grid per se, but he tried to stay as self-sufficient as possible, which included raisin
g livestock and gardening for most of his food. Max could attest to the quality of his organically produced bacon and eggs. During his time in the corps, Otto had frequently expressed his relief at having escaped the farm life of his youth, a backward existence to hear him tell it at the time. Now the exigencies of a changing world had forced him to revisit his roots on a smaller scale. Max knew from experience how people who escaped the perceived prisons of their youth often returned to them years later.

  “You guys have a good thing going. I hate like hell to keep interrupting your lives.”

  “It’s not a problem, Max. Nothing wrong with a little excitement around here now and then.”

  “There’s about to be plenty of that.”

  “Yep, so I’m gonna disappear now. Good luck.”

  Max took his time eating the final strip of bacon, then went to drop the bad news on Leet.

  She sat upright in bed, a half-finished tray of breakfast on her lap. Her color had improved along with her alertness; perhaps Linda had further reduced her pain medications.

  Leet fixed her stare on Max. “Where’s Shai? What happened to him?”

  “A you’re welcome and a pleasant good morning to you too. How do you feel?”

  “Like I’m about to be bullshitted by a man unequal to the task. Now where is he?”

  Just get it over with. “Gone.”

  She glared at him. “Where? Who did you leave him with?”

  “Just let me talk, okay? It’s very involved.”

  “Fine. I’m waiting.”

  Max laid it on her: Shai’s dark vision of his future, his fears of being used by a corrupt ruling order, of becoming corrupted himself.

  Leet remained silent as he spoke. Her glowering gaze said everything.

  “We had a heavy conversation.” Max paused, looked away as he took a deep breath. “And Shai decided that he needed to be eliminated.”

  “Eliminated? What the fuck does that mean, Ahlgren? Enough already with the goddamn newspeak.” She winced slightly from pain as she spat the questions.

  “It means he’s gone, Margaret. For good and forever. I’m sorry.”