Friction

by Dwayne Gill

  A few moments later, the front door opened and revealed a tall, middle-aged man wearing swimming trunks and a t-shirt that displayed the local water park’s logo. The man looked over his visitor but didn’t appear too skeptical, probably because it wasn’t uncommon for neighbors to drop by. As Hart exited his vehicle, though, Blake’s expression changed slightly.

  Hart waved and walked to the door, holding his FBI credentials where Blake could see. Blake’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t slam the door, which Hart took as a good sign.

  “What can I do for you, Agent—”

  “Lance Hart. Would you mind if we spoke a few minutes? I won’t take much of your time.” Hart figured the family was preparing to leave, based on Blake’s attire.

  Blake frowned and looked at his watch. “Five minutes,” he said. “I have four anxious kids that will make you wish you’d left sooner, anyway.”

  Hart already saw what he meant. In the background, two boys were chasing each other with water guns, while two girls in swimsuits stared at him from afar. “Five minutes,” said Hart.

  The interior of the residence looked exactly as Hart had imagined it would. It was upscale but not fancy and more suited for a family with lots of kids. The home had no overly expensive furnishings but was instead filled with pop culture décor. Hart guessed someone in the family was an artist, for there were similar drawings spread about, most depicting fun vacation destinations like mountains and beaches.

  Blake maneuvered Hart safely through the kids’ war zone and into an office down a hallway. The room seemed to take on its own personality apart from the house, and Hart guessed Blake was a fan of old music groups. Posters of classic bands like The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and others hung on the walls, giving the room a relaxed vibe.

  “The golden age of music,” said Blake. Hart wondered how long the supposed age lasted, seeing Blake had a Nickelback poster on the wall as well. Hart nodded anyway as he sat, and Blake offered him a drink.

  “No, thanks,” said Hart.

  Blake opened a bottle of water, sat behind his desk, and looked at Hart as he sipped. “I’m curious to know what you’re here about. I know who you are.”

  It wasn’t exactly surprising news, but Hart wondered if he knew him as the agent who hunted Cane, the famous assassin, or because of the last few weeks of chaos. He decided not to ask. “Do you know why I’m here?”

  Blake shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  “You’re with the CIA?” asked Hart.

  “Was,” said Blake.

  “What happened?” asked Hart.

  Blake looked at him skeptically. “You know I’m not gonna talk about it. I can’t.”

  Hart could feel his internal clock ticking, knowing he didn’t have much time, so he went for broke. “There’s something big happening, Mr. Blake. I won’t lie, the reason I came to see you is that you may be the only person who can save a couple of men’s lives.”

  Blake looked like he choked back a laugh but quickly gained his composure. “I doubt that.”

  Hart quickly laid out the connection Plumber made to Senator Simon and how it involved Brandon Webb. “Someone abducted Captain Dennis Bowman as well, and we think Bowman and Webb are being held in the same place.” Hart watched the color drain from Blake’s face while the man took a big swig of water.

  “I know Brandon Webb,” said Blake. “In fact, I like him. He was a little strange, I’ll admit, and he seemed to always be involved in his own little projects he kept to himself.”

  “Do you know who abducted him?” asked Hart.

  “No,” said Blake. “But I know why he was taken.”

  Hart frowned. So do I, he thought. Hart wanted information he didn’t have, not rehashed stuff, but he played along. “Why was he taken?”

  “Well, first, he released a bogus lead to Harvey Foster about some college girl. It made no sense at the time, but he asked me not to say anything.”

  Hart knew he was referencing Natalie. Webb anonymously tipped Foster off about Natalie being Marcene’s daughter and even gave him her location at the hotel in Boston. Foster, who was FBI director at the time, had eagerly relayed the tip to Vinson, not knowing the whole thing was a setup. Cane was alerted by Marcene and saved Natalie from the men sent to kill her at her hotel. Blake didn’t understand the significance of this, so why would he assume it was the reason Webb was abducted?

  “There was something else, too,” said Blake. The man looked troubled. “Webb had been looking into this Senator Simon you mentioned. Some connection he had to the Russians. That’s what got him nabbed.”

  This was news to Hart and an encouraging turn. “Are you sure?”

  Blake shot him an offended look. “I’m sure. It’s one reason I walked away.”

  “What’s the other reason?” asked Hart.

  “The CIA has had some strange things happening, like Webb’s bogus leak. There’s so much secrecy. Spying on American citizens, holding back intelligence on things worthy of sending up the chain, and then Webb disappears because he found a legitimate case of corruption? How long until the same thing happens to me?”

  Hart would love to know more, but he was running out of time. Blake was looking at his watch, and Hart could hear the kids screaming in the distance. “Were your superiors aware you knew about Webb investigating Simon?”

  “Hell, no,” said Blake. “I’m not stupid. I took medical leave right after the Webb thing, then retired early because of my health.”

  Blake looked as fit as a man his age could be, but Hart figured it was a decent excuse. “Never mention you knew about Simon,” said Hart.

  “Like now?” Blake smiled. “I never planned on it. Unless you mention it, no one knows.”

  Someone else knows, thought Hart. “Plumber found out you knew about it. I don’t know how, but he did.”

  Blake shrugged but was clearly concerned. “Are you trying to sort this out? Like, arrest the people involved?”

  “That’s the goal,” said Hart.

  “Then it’s in my best interest to help,” said Blake.

  Hart nodded. “Do you know where they’re keeping Webb?”

  Blake grinned. “I sure do. And it’s not some underground dungeon. It’s a facility owned by the CIA.”

  *

  October 2, 2028

  4:00 p.m. EST

  Miami, Florida

  After celebrating with Hart and Plumber over finding Bowman and Webb’s likely location, Barkley video-called Calvin’s house to fill everyone in on the latest breakthrough. It was relieving to deliver good news for once, and Barkley sensed her friends needed it. They looked worn down from the stress of the last two days. Naturally, they were glad to see Barkley up on her feet and back to normal, although her black eyes were probably alarming to look at.

  “I didn’t even notice,” said Calvin, but he was smirking.

  “Shut it, Calvin,” said Barkley. “Or I’ll give you a black eye or two to match mine.”

  In his usual way, Calvin looked both genuinely scared and playful at the same time. Taryn giggled behind him. Kristy, Natalie, and Jordyn were happy to talk, but something seemed to distract them. Barkley guessed that for Kristy it was Cane’s absence, but for the other two she didn’t know. They could be overwhelmed by the recent chain of events, or maybe it was something internal.

  Lynks had been busy going through the list of Brewer’s patients but had found nothing of significance since discovering Senator Simon’s son. “There’s just nothing with these names that helps us,” said Lynks.

  Barkley was admittedly desperate, for Plumber was making plans for them to meet Hart and to retrieve Bowman. The location was in Maryland, so they’d have to get going soon, but Barkley couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Swelling, Tina, and Shauna behind in Miami. In fact, she still refused to give up hope. “Lynks, please work that genius mind of yours and track them down,” said Barkley.

  “I wish I could,” said Lynks. “Believe me, I’ve been staring at
this list for so long, waiting for an epiphany. But I just don’t think…” Lynks trailed off, his last words taking longer to enunciate.

  “What?” asked Barkley.

  “That’s it,” said Lynks.

  “What’s it?” said Barkley, getting frustrated.

  “The list of names from Brewer,” said Lynks. “I don’t think Brewer was tracking the marked men only because he was an avid bookkeeper. I think it may be fairly standard practice.”

  “Meaning?” Barkley still didn’t get the connection.

  “The list from Brewer had the names of local men in Chicago,” said Lynks. “We’re sure there are other doctors doing the same thing all over the country, so I’ll bet there’s a doctor in Miami that has a list like Brewer’s.”

  Now the wheels were turning for Barkley. “So you think Swelling, Tina, and Shauna are being kept at a marked man’s house?”

  “Why not?” asked Lynks. “We know they’ve been hesitant about using BioFare locations, because we keep finding them there, so the next best thing would be to use someone’s house.”

  It made perfect sense. “They’d definitely be keeping them in Miami,” said Barkley. “Tina, Swelling, and Shauna were all locals.” There was another issue, and Barkley frowned as she considered it. “I don’t have time to go through every doctor in Miami. How in the world is this supposed to help me?”

  “Ah, I thought you’d ask,” said Lynks. “Actually, I’ve been doing work in the background while we’ve been talking. Instead of starting with the Miami doctors, I began with a list of missing men in Miami, the ones presumed to be marked men.”

  Barkley scratched her head. “I still don’t see how that’s any faster.”

  “Well, I have software capable of running the list of names through a database to see what common factors they have,” said Lynks. “State of birth, occupation, high school…”

  “Primary care physician,” finished Barkley. “Lynks, you are amazing.”

  “Thank you,” said Lynks. “So, of all the thousands of these names, I’m finding an overwhelming number in Miami that used the same doctor.”

  “Yes,” said Barkley. “What’s his name?”

  “Dr. Ringo. Alfredo Ringo,” said Lynks.

  “Okay, so if I can get a list of names from this guy, what will we do with it?” asked Barkley.

  “Well, I’d look through the ones who still live in Miami,” said Lynks. “I’m willing to bet they’re keeping them at the house of a marked man whose family has moved away.”

  “Makes sense,” said Barkley. “You can do all that?”

  “I sure can,” said Lynks. “Get me that list, and I’ll get you Swelling, Tina, and Shauna.”

  Barkley ended the call and sighed. Finally, it seemed like they were gaining momentum. It would still be tough to find Swelling and the others, though, even if Barkley could get to this doctor. She Googled his address and found he wasn’t far from her current location, so she needed to get a move on.

  Plumber entered, smiling, and sat down. It felt weird to still occupy the interrogation room at the station, but it was the safest place at the moment, and it offered privacy.

  “We’re getting a team of trusted agents together,” said Plumber. “Hart got to choose who could take part. The only problem is that it leaves us a little undermanned, but it’ll have to do. If we lose the element of surprise, I don’t think it’ll matter how many men we have.”

  Barkley grinned, but Plumber noticed something was on her mind. “What?”

  “I have a good lead on Swelling, Tina, and Shauna,” said Barkley. “I’m staying in Miami.”

  Plumber groaned. “I promised Hart I’d keep you safe.”

  “I can’t walk away from this,” said Barkley.

  Plumber sighed but seemed to know she was doing the right thing. “I can’t even spare any agents to help you.”

  “You need every hand with the two of you,” said Barkley. “My lead may not even pan out. It’d be a waste of bodies if they’re left here with me and I find nothing.”

  “I don’t like this one bit,” said Plumber.

  Barkley was pleased to see the level of concern in his eyes. It meant a lot, seeing that she and Hart had few people they could trust. “Don’t tell Hart, not until later at least,” said Barkley. “I don’t want him distracted.”

  Plumber nodded. “Call me if you get in a bind. And if you find Swelling and the others, wait for help.”

  Leaving a Mark

  October 2, 2028

  3:30 p.m. CST

  Chicago, Illinois

  Rick drove the SUV down Roosevelt Road, now only a few blocks from the local FBI field office. His men had been tracking the agents’ movements since they left Dr. Brewer’s office hours ago. The FBI had Brewer and one of his men in custody inside, but Rick couldn’t care less about either one of them. He was here to make yet another splash, one that would let the country know they were here to stay.

  Rick was tired of staying on the sidelines, negotiating and keeping people happy. He’d been forced to listen to the Russian asshole, Voronoff, at the club in Miami trashing his friend and brother for the cause, Amos, which still nagged at him. It seemed like that sort of thing happened far too often these days, and it was causing Rick to get restless and bloodthirsty.

  Vinson was right, they needed the Russians’ cooperation, but not being able to show their true colors was frustrating. They were monsters, killers, men not to be messed with, and finally, Rick had his chance to demonstrate it on a big stage.

  In the back of the SUV were five marked men who’d been not only turned but also well trained, not like the ones the FBI agents had faced lately. Barkley likely thought she’d accomplished some great feat by taking down the two at the Rogers’ home. Rick couldn’t wait to show the agents inside what true power looked like.

  Unfortunately, Hart was not present, which would’ve been the only thing that made this beating any sweeter. Rick’s men had lost him trying to keep up with the caravan containing Brewer, for the FBI agents had parked all over the neighborhood where the clinic was located. Rick had been faced with the difficult choice of whom to follow, but he felt like he’d made the right one. His men were swarming Chicago anyway, so if Hart was still in the city, they’d find him soon enough.

  It was both rewarding and aggravating having Cane, Daniel, and now William temporarily out of the picture. In their absence, Rick could make bolder moves without them interfering, but part of him wished they were in town. Rick longed for the day he could look each of the three men in the eye as they died, especially Daniel.

  Rick had faced off with the giant twice, failing to kill him both times, but never again. The first time, when Rick raided his boss’s mansion, he thought he’d killed the brute, but he’d survived. Rick had been rushed because of the approaching emergency vehicles, but the buckshot to Daniel’s chest should have ended him. Their second encounter was even more disappointing. Rick manhandled the giant and had him dead to rights when a sniper cleared him and his men out, clipping Rick in the shoulder. He was once again forced to leave Daniel behind.

  I’ll get another turn, Daniel, and next time I’ll make sure I finish the job.

  Rick was parked a block away now, coming right back to his resting place after making the block for what seemed like the hundredth time. He hadn’t wanted to draw too much attention to their black SUV parked in the same spot all day, so he’d kept looping around, knowing it was only a matter of time before the FBI moved their caravan along. He knew they wouldn’t hold either Brewer or his man overnight; they were only there to take statements and do paperwork. They’d be escorting one, or both, to Washington, and who knew where his marked man would finally end up. It didn’t matter, for the agents would never leave the parking lot.

  Less than ten minutes later, Rick’s patience paid off when one agent emerged to open the transport’s back doors. Rick grinned at the man’s casual approach, for the agent didn’t realize his executioner wa
s only a few hundred feet away. Not wanting to move too soon, Rick waited until the rest exited. He’d counted seven earlier: six men and a woman.

  Moments later, a group of four men walked out of the building toward the van, and behind them, a woman escorted his marked man in cuffs. Two more male agents pulled up the rear, and Rick knew it was time to roll. “Ready, boys!”

  Rick gunned the SUV, not worried about the sound of screeching tires alerting anyone, for the time to be stealthy had passed. He pushed the engine as hard as it would go, and as he approached, the agents reacted. Protocol would have them treat this scenario by the books, so unless Rick barreled right at them, they wouldn’t open fire. He veered into the middle of the road and swung a 180-degree turn, smoking the tires as the SUV skidded to a stop in front of the FBI transport.

  “Move!” Rick shouted. “Don’t kill our guy!”

  As he climbed out of the driver’s seat, the rest of his men piled out also. Rick and two of his men walked around the front of the SUV, making them responsible for the four agents leading the way. The men were still drawing their weapons and trying to get to cover as Rick and his two guys sprayed them with a volley of rounds. One agent aimed his gun before being riddled with bullets, but none actually fired a shot.

  The three marked men who’d exited the passenger side took a different approach, for they couldn’t risk opening fire on the marked man the woman agent was escorting. Again, the FBI men were a step behind, allowing time for the three assailants to charge in at them. Two of Rick’s guys each tackled a respective agent to the ground and beat them, while the last man darted toward the woman. The cuffed prisoner did his part to distract her, giving help time to arrive and allowing them both to subdue her easily.

  “Don’t kill them,” said Rick, who then signaled two of his men to follow him as he approached the building. Rick heard a noise inside, and a moment later, an agent filled the doorway, likely to inspect the source of the chaos. Rick placed a precise shot to his head, dropping the man instantly. Never breaking stride, Rick walked inside and saw two more agents entering the main lobby to his left with their guns drawn. Rick popped one in the chest while his two men handled the other, and Rick sprinted to the edge of the lobby. There was a short hallway in front of him, and as he listened, he heard a voice coming from a room farther down. Someone’s calling for help, thought Rick.