Once Is Never Enough

by Haris Orkin

  “Nurse Durkin has a difficult job, and she isn’t the warmest woman, but I do appreciate her efficiency. However, I didn’t invite you here today to talk about Nurse Durkin. I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “A favor?”

  “Mr. Flynn was offered a temporary position with Sergei Belenki and he would like you to accompany him.”

  “A position? You’re going to let him out again?”

  “Health Management System Services initially balked at the idea, but when I told them that Mr. Belenki offered to pay both Mr. Flynn and the corporation a million dollars for a few weeks of work, they reconsidered.”

  “A million dollars?”

  “That money could go a long way to paying for Mr. Flynn’s care and eventually help him establish a life outside an institutional setting.”

  “Holy shit. I mean, wow, that’s really…that’s a lot of money.”

  “Yes, it is, and I didn’t think it was right to deny him that opportunity.”

  “What would he do for Mr. Belenki?”

  “He wants to employ him as a security consultant.”

  “Seriously?”

  “He believes Mr. Flynn is someone who thinks outside the box.”

  “About a million miles outside the box.”

  Nickelson smiled at that. “Would you be willing to accompany him?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m in the middle of my last semester of classes and I’ll be honest, I don’t know if James should be doing security for anybody. As I’m sure you know, he doesn’t have a real firm grasp on reality.”

  “Which is why I will be accompanying both of you. I’ll be there to monitor the situation and make sure that nothing gets too far out of hand.”

  “Pardon my saying so, sir, but crap can get out of hand with James pretty damn fast.”

  “Which is why I want you there as well. Just in case.”

  “If I do this, I’ll lose the whole semester. It’s really not good timing for me. I’m sorry.”

  “Mr. Belenki has agreed to pay anyone who accompanies Flynn a weekly stipend as well.”

  “That’s really nice of him, but I just don’t think it makes sense for me right now.”

  “Not even for a quarter of a million dollars above and beyond your regular pay?”

  “A quarter of a mil?”

  “That’s what he offered, but if you don’t—

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Not at all. So, is that a yes?”

  “That’s a fuck yes!”

  Nickelson laughed at that and Sancho laughed right along with him. Each one spurred the other on and the laughter grew louder and more raucous until slowly it began to wind down. Honeywell poked her head into the Nickelson’s office to see what was happening. Sancho just grinned at her. She shook her head and left as Sancho laughed again.

  Nickelson raised his hand to quiet him. “We will be leaving tomorrow morning. You need to pack for a few weeks and include some formal wear if you have any.”

  “You mean like a tux?”

  “Or a nice suit. Apparently, there’s some formal charity event that we will all need to attend.”

  “I have a suit.”

  “Good. Then we’re all set. They’ll be sending a limo to pick us up here at 9:00 a.m. sharp.”

  “Has Nurse Durkin heard about this?”

  “This isn’t any of Nurse Durkin’s concern.”

  Bettina O’Toole-Applebaum was frustrated. Ever since Flynn accused her of being an assassin, he refused to have anything to do with her. She didn’t know if he was keeping her at arm’s length because he suspected she was the enemy or if he was simply playing hard to get. After a few days of this annoying cat and mouse game, Bettina finally managed to get Flynn alone after breakfast.

  She cornered him in a corridor and he immediately started flirting. He suggested they move the conversation to a quieter, more private place. She hesitated at first. Was his intention to seduce her or terminate her? After all, he did believe he had a license to kill. She didn’t want to put herself at any unnecessary risk, but the adrenalin generated by this possibility came with a generous dollop of lust. She wasn’t sure if she was more aroused by the danger or the possibility of a Pulitzer. She didn’t want to seduce Flynn, exactly. She wouldn’t take it that far. But she wasn’t above a little heavy-duty flirting, and that’s how they ended up nose to nose in an equipment closet not far from the activity room.

  “So how exactly were you planning to do it,” Flynn pressed.

  “Do what?”

  “Do me in. Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

  “No, that is not why I’m here.”

  “I should frisk you for a weapon, but I wouldn’t want to overstep.”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  Bettina raised her hands and Flynn frisked her lightly and efficiently, running his fingers up and down her body, gently, but firmly feeling for a weapon, between her thighs and under her arms. She hadn’t been touched by anyone in quite some time and the sensation was intoxicating. She closed her eyes and couldn’t help but let a little sigh escape. When he felt under her armpits she giggled.

  “Ticklish, are we?”

  “Only in certain places.”

  “You clearly don’t have a weapon.”

  “I come in peace I promise.”

  Flynn leaned in closer. “Then why do I sense you’re hiding something from me?”

  “What would I be hiding?”

  “Who you are and why you’re here.”

  “You are not a very trusting person,” Bettina said, their lips now inches apart.

  “I look in your eyes and I see hope, but I also see fear. You’ve been deceived, hurt and betrayed by those you put your faith in. That won’t happen with me. Trust me with your truth and I promise I won’t abandon you. I’ll support you and protect you and be there whenever you need me.”

  Bettina teared up but didn’t know why. A huge, empty loneliness ached at her core. She put her arms around Flynn and hugged him close and he gently stroked her hair.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “No need to thank me. Just tell me the truth. Were you sent here to assassinate me?”

  A tear trickled down Bettina’s face. “No, but I haven’t been completely honest with you either.”

  “Time to come clean then.”

  “If I do, will you trust me?”

  “Trust you? No. Truss you? Absolutely.”

  Flynn moved so fast, at first Bettina didn’t know what was happening. He slid the canvas sleeves over her arms, spun her around, and pulled the straps of the straitjacket tight. She was firmly trussed as he looped another restraint around her ankles, attached a strap with a carabiner-like clip, and threw it over a support beam.

  “What are you—” was all she could get out before Flynn tossed her over his shoulder and pulled her up by the strap until she was suspended upside down, dangling from the ceiling, bound and secure in the straitjacket. She struggled and fought to free herself. “Let me out of here! Let me—” Flynn covered her mouth with a strip of gaffer tape from a nearby shelf. Bettina glared at him as she tried to wrestle herself free, but all she did was create enough momentum to spin herself around.

  “Sorry, darling,” Flynn said.

  “Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!” Bettina said as Flynn exited the closet and closed the door.

  Sancho saw Flynn exiting a storage closet not far from the activity room. He would have asked him what he was doing in there, but he didn’t want to hear another crazy, batshit story, so instead he just asked Flynn if he was ready to go. “That lawyer lady who works for Belenki is here with the limo. Are you packed?”

  “Packed and ready. As you know, I travel light.”

  “Well, grab your shit and let’s go. We have a plane to catch.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sancho told his abuela about his good fortune and she didn’t believe him. She thought either he was pulling her leg or someone was pulling his. W
hy would anyone give her grandson a quarter of a million dollars for anything? Sancho tried to explain but soon realized there was no logical explanation. She worked so hard for every penny she ever made. Sancho never understood why those who worked the hardest made the least. That sad fact fueled his determination to get a degree and find a job that didn’t wear him down to the bone.

  His grandfather, one of the toughest men he ever met, stood five foot two. Barrel-chested and squat with a generous gut, he wasn’t a gym rat or movie star muscular, but his tata had a grip like a steel vise and could work all day and hoist cement blocks that weighed a hundred pounds. He toiled long hours in the rain or in one-hundred-degree heat and was always happy to have the work. Both his abuela and his tata were in their sixties and continued to work as hard as they ever had. So did Sancho’s mom as a cashier at Ross Dress for Less.

  How could Sancho ever explain to his abuela and tata that a quarter of a million dollars was pocket change to someone like Sergei Belenki. For them, that kind of money was life changing. Sancho could wipe out all his student loans and pay for graduate school. He could buy a new car for himself and a new truck for his tata.

  He didn’t remember the last time his mother and grandparents went to the dentist or doctor, but now his tata could get his teeth fixed and his abuela could afford her blood pressure medication. They wouldn’t believe him until he handed them the cold hard cash, but that’s exactly what he would do. It was the least he could do after all they had done for him.

  First, Sancho had to stay alive long enough to collect. He barely survived his first adventure with Flynn and knew this one would be equally life-threatening. Nickelson had no idea what he signed up for. Sancho hoped that having a psychiatrist along might help keep Flynn in check, but there was no guarantee that he would listen. No guarantee at all.

  The black Cadillac XTS Limo pulled up to the curb in front of City of Roses. The chauffeur opened the door and Severina Angelli sat inside, sipping from a bottle of Dasani water. Flynn and Sancho followed Dr. Nickelson into the limo as the chauffeur loaded up the trunk with their luggage. Within minutes they were on their way to Burbank Airport in air-conditioned comfort. They each had their own buttery-beige leather seat complete with a drink holder. A thirty-two-inch LCD TV soundlessly played MSNBC above a bar area with a selection of fine liquor and a bottle of French Champagne on ice.

  Sancho never rode in a limo before and felt vaguely out of place. Severina looked elegant in her Armani suit, and Flynn was equally well-dressed in vintage Hugo Boss. Nickelson wore wrinkled kaki’s, a well-worn tweed jacket and a smile of absolute delight. He pointed to the Champagne.

  “Help yourself,” Severina said.

  Dr. Nickelson picked up the bottle and read the label aloud, his voice full of surprise. “Dom Perignon?”

  “A 2009. Someone knows their Champagne,” Flynn said.

  Nickelson handed the bottle to Flynn. “Would you care to do the honors?”

  Flynn peeled off the foil and expertly popped the cork. He poured them each a glass and raised his for a toast.

  “Sláinte!” Flynn swirled the Champagne glass and inspected the legs before inhaling the bouquet. He took a tiny sip and swished the bubbly around his mouth. “It has a certain voluptuousness, doesn’t it? Floral, rich and fleshy with a high acidic backbone and vibrant notes of guava and nectarines.”

  Sancho took a sip of his own and mimicked Flynn by swishing the wine around his mouth. He didn’t taste the guava or nectarines and he had no clue what a high acidic backbone was, but it wasn’t bad.

  “Salud!” Sancho said and then gulped the rest of the glass. Over the rim of his glass, he saw Severina study Flynn. He was already working his magic and wasn’t even half-trying. The alcohol hit Sancho as Flynn refilled his glass. He started to relax.

  Sancho ran his hand over the buttery leather and finished his second glass of Champagne. Not having eaten breakfast, it went right to his head. Severina opened the sunroof and daylight filled the limo. Sancho stared at the clear blue sky. Maybe this trip with Flynn won’t be such a shit show after all. Traveling in style and chugging Champagne isn’t a bad way to make a quarter mil. He allowed himself to smile as the rest of his anxiety melted away. His first adventure time with Flynn involved carjacking, kidnapping, and multiple shootings. This time he traveled on a private jet to a multimillion-dollar charity ball.

  Sancho watched the world go by through the tinted privacy glass. They exited at Hollywood Way and headed north past fast-food restaurants and mini-malls, gas stations and suburban tract houses. The limo pulled past the main entrance to Bob Hope Burbank Airport and headed past a security gate to the private hangar where Belenki kept his jet.

  Sancho’s mood lifted even more when he raised his third glass of Champagne, but it abruptly plummeted when he saw the custom Boeing 737. Fear gripped him and adrenaline flooded his system. It was the very same jet that Goolardo used to kidnap the billionaires. The same one Flynn nearly crashed and burned.

  After someone shot the pilot, Flynn had taken the controls even though the closest he’d ever come to flying a plane was a flight simulator video game. Sancho had known terror many times during his ordeal with Flynn, but that fight on the plane with Goolardo and Mendoza terrified him more than any other moment they’d spent together. Sancho remembered the ground flying up as the plane rocketed down. He was sure he’d die a fiery agonizing death. He didn’t. He survived. But some nights he had nightmares where Flynn didn’t save them, and the plane plowed into a mountain and exploded.

  The limo came to a stop and the chauffeur opened the door. Sancho was stricken. He couldn’t get out. Fear kept him frozen in place.

  Flynn patted him on the knee. “Ready, amigo?”

  “I can’t do it. I can’t get on that plane again.”

  Severina raised an eyebrow. “What’s the issue?”

  “The issue is I don’t want to fucking die!”

  “What makes you think you’re going to die?” Dr. Nickelson’s voice oozed calm.

  “Him.” Sancho pointed at Flynn.

  “You do realize you’re being irrational, right?” Nickelson asked.

  Still pointing at Flynn, Sancho said, “He’s the one who’s irrational.”

  Flynn smiled. “How am I irrational?”

  “In every fucking way possible. I’m not doing this again. I’m not doing it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re just feeling a bit agitated.”

  “If he doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t have to. His presence is not required,” Severina said.

  “It is for me, and it should be for your boss.” Flynn leaned forward and locked eyes with her.

  “Sancho. Look at me.” Nickelson put a firm hand on each of Sancho’s shoulders. “Big breath in. Big breath out. That’s it. You are suffering the effects of PTSD. But they can be managed. They can be controlled. That jet is a trigger for you. That’s why you’re anxious.”

  “Anxious? I’m fucking terrified.”

  “Just keep breathing. Let it in. Out. In. Out. Do you feel that cleansing breath pushing away your anxiety?”

  “Not really.”

  “You will. By learning to identify external triggers, you can reduce your anxiety level. That Champagne probably didn’t help. I recommend staying away from alcohol. Once it’s out of your system, I’ll give you a Xanax.”

  “Just take me back to City of Roses.”

  “You run away from this and your anxiety will only get worse.” Nickelson looked deep into Sancho’s eyes. “You need to face your fear. It’s called exposure and it’s what’s necessary if you want to manage your PTSD. Confronting fear is the only way to overcome it.”

  Flynn nodded in agreement. “He speaks the truth, amigo. You think I never face fear? I face it every single day. I hide it well, but it’s always there. It keeps me sharp. It keeps me ready. Bravery isn’t about eliminating fear. It’s about doing what’s required despite that fear.”

  “Think ab
out the positive benefits of conquering this.” Nickelson released Sancho’s shoulders and chucked him under the chin. “You can do it.”

  “And don’t forget about the money you’ll make,” Severina added.

  Sancho hesitated. Walking away terrified him just as much as staying. His family needed the money. He needed the money. It would change everything. All he had to do was not die. He had been doing that every day for the last twenty-seven years. If he could just stay alive for another few weeks his family would be set. “Okay.” Sancho nodded with conviction. “Let’s do this.”

  Severina Angelli fastened her seatbelt on the plane and gave Flynn a sideways glance. Over the last three years, Belenki had ordered Severina to do many strange things. Hiring Flynn didn’t even top the list, but it was likely the most dangerous.

  After earning an MBA in Finance from Wharton, she graduated at the top of her class from Harvard Law. Severina interviewed at investment banks and venture capital firms and fielded multiple offers. She finally went with Bain Capital in New York. Five years later she was a senior consultant at Benchmark in Menlo Park and worked with startups like Dropbox, Zillow, and Snapchat.

  There she met Sergei Belenki and within a year he’d lured her away to become his VP of business development and investor relations. She made twice the salary she made at Benchmark and the stock options and yearly bonuses were insane, but then so was Sergei Belenki.

  Belenki believed the colonization of other planets essential for human survival, which was why he created Space Go, one of the largest private space exploration companies in the world. He worried that one day advanced AI would create a race of machines that would obliterate humankind. He intimated that perhaps what we perceive as our reality is possibly a computer simulation created by an advanced alien civilization.

  Hiring Flynn to protect him from the Russian mob was no more bizarre than many of Belenki’s other strange and irrational notions. She was, however, irritated that he had her drop everything else she was working on to convince Flynn to come west. Insulted to be put in that position, she began to re-evaluate her situation.