It Sometimes Snows In May: A B.E.A.N. Police Novella (8 page)

“I know, but if Brown wanted John Doe dead, he would be already. There’s something else going on and we need Mary Brown to lead us to it.” Morefishco’s PDA chimes. He picks it up on the second chime.

“Morefishco? They want what? Tell that wacko that kidnapping is still against the law and we can trace his call if he doesn’t politely hang up.”

Patel looks to Morefishco. His eyes wide. He watches Morefishco listen for a few seconds, all the while trying to get a word in edgewise.

“I can’t release him, because he’s already gone...excuse me? His wife? New Mass Congresswoman Citysun?” Morefishco’s eyes squeeze shut. “Hold on.” Morefishco taps mute on this PDA and swivels to Patel. “Grab Practice, and pick ‘em up. Right now!”

“Pick up who chief?” Patel asks.

“Hansel and Gretel, who do you think?”

Patel scurries out of Morefishco’s office. Morefishco waits until Patel closes his door, and then returns his attention back to his PDA. “Put Congresswoman Citysun through.”

             
Ryles strolls into the living room of her apartment house wearing jeans and a tank-top. Her hair is wrapped in a white towel, and her feet bare. Ryles stares at Zota laying on the couch with a slip of net-paper in his hands. On hearing Ryles enter he straightens up.

              “Good morning sunshine. I made some breakfast. It’s in the microwave. I didn’t realize you were going to sleep-in this long,” Zota says.

              “You made breakfast?”

              “Yeah.” Zota pauses. “Is that allowed?”

              Ryles nods and cracks a tiny smile. “Thank you.”

              “You should smile more often,” Zota says. “You seem like you’d be fun to be around. When you’re not killing bad guys of course.”

              Ryles’ frown returns as she walks into the kitchen.

              “So who are you, really? You’re sure not looking to kill me, because you would have already. So why all the secrecy?” Zota asks.

              “Who I am isn’t important. It’s safer for both of us right now. If you could remember, you’d know why.

Zota walks to the other side of the bar opposite the kitchen as Ryles pulls a plate of red speckled scrambled eggs, hash browns, and sausage out of the microwave. “Diced tomatoes, no onions, right?” Zota asks.

              “Right.” Ryles grins, and then pulls one of her throwing knives out of the cutting board on the countertop. She shovels some eggs with the spine of the blade, and then after balancing carefully, rolls the eggs in her mouth.

              “I know that, but I don’t know your name,” Zota says. “But there’s more than just business between us. I can’t feel it.”

              Ryles laughs hard and long. She pulls a beer out of the fridge, and passes a second to Zota. He hesitates to take it until Ryles smiles and waves the bottle under his nose. “You can feel it? Feel what? Sounds like your little head talking smack.”

Zota looks down; and hunches his shoulders. “A connection. Something more.”

              “You wish,” Ryles says. “Plus, you don’t really like me much, remember? Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t remember.”

              Zota looks up. “I had a dream last night.”

              “What it a wet one?” Ryles giggles. From under the table Zota pulls out Ryles auto-pistol and point it at her chest. Ryles’ face turns stone cold.

“You wanna put that down, before you hurt yourself,” Ryles growls.

“Now I got your attention?” Zota says.

“Undivided.”

“I dreamt you and I were in a house, in New Mass. We were living together, and there was another woman, important looking, who didn’t like the idea.” Zota held the auto-pistol and remained silent.

“Put that down...let’s talk,” Ryles says.

“We got into a car.” Zota narrowed his eyes. “A red sports car. The two of us. The same car that was spinning.” Zota winced in pain, and put a palm to his temple, unconsciously lowering the auto-pistol.

“You’re confused and stressed out. You haven’t been laid in over three months, at least. I would be stressed out too. Now put the gun down,” Ryles says.

Zota raises the auto-pistol sharply and Ryles recoiled with her hands now raised. “I remember watching you step into the car. I saw a tattoo on your lower back,” Zota says

“Ooooh, I get it. You think I’m a clone?” Ryles shakes her head. “Maybe I should have left you for the body bandits.”

“You’ve already lied about being my sister. Maybe you’re lying about being my business partner. Maybe you’re just some crazy
chica
looking for a man?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. And I’m not your
chica.
” Ryles says. “I got the contract with your signature on it.”

“That doesn’t mean a damn thing, since I still don’t know who I am,” Zota says. “I got a better idea. Turn around and lift up your top.”

“Excuse me?”

Zota jerks off a round into the ceiling to the right of Ryles, who snapped her head to the opposite side. Zota flinches and slowly regains his focus on Ryles.

“Fine.” Ryles turns around slowly, and then lifts her tank top to reveal a scar in the shape of a scorpion, on her left shoulder blade.

Zota’s lowers the auto-pistol. “Sorry, I had to be sure.”

Ryles storms from the kitchen into the living room, grabs the auto-pistol, and slaps Zota, hard. “That’s for being the ass you always were.” After tucking the auto-pistol back in her hip holster, she stomps back to her breakfast place at the bar. After one bite of the hash browns, she grimaces. “Yech. Cold.” Ryles places the plate back in the microwave. “Two minutes, start,” Ryles commands.

Zota rubs the side of his face and turns to Ryles. “I thought you were going to kill me...once you got what you wanted.”

“You’re worth more to me alive, right now,” Ryles says. “But that might change if you ever pull a gun on me again.”

The microwave dings at the same time the front door chimes. Ryles and Zota glance at each other. Ryles pulls her plate out of the microwave. The door chimes again.

“Oh yeah. Some guy, John, called,” Zota says. “He said he was coming over, and wanted to know if you’d be home.” The door chimes again. Ryles’ face turns ashen. She comes up to Zota until they are eye to eye.

              “Who did John ask for when he called?” Ryles asks.

              “Huh?”

“Who did he ask for?”

“Rals, Rails, or something,” Zota says.

              A older male voice booms through the door. “Hey! It’s John! You in there?”

              Ryles put her finger over her lips, and passed Zota her auto-pistol. “Grab the duffel bag in the room. Head out the back.”

“The back? What back?” Zota asks.

Ryles points to the terrace. “There’s a temp-car on Fifth and Bay State. Meet me in the back of East Ispari Hospital in an hour.”

“What’s going on?” Zota asks.

“Go!”

As Zota runs to the bedroom, Ryles grabs the rest of her throwing knives from the table. She then re-wraps the towel around her hair.

“I’m coming!” Ryles says. She strolls to the door.

Meanwhile, Zota bounds out through the terrace with the bag.

The door gives way, inching open to the left as Ryles approaches. Two massive hands slowly force the door further open. Ryles wraps her fingers around one of the blade handles.

Once the door is completely open, John, Director of Protocol, and on of the Triad heavies all stand in the doorway. Dried and fresh blood, and bruises, plaster John’s head, nose, and mouth. The heavy holds him upright. Director of Protocol smiles. “It appears we have a mutual acquaintance.”

Elisa steps into Zota’s office to grab some digital photos and recording, in addition to their wedding license. She trips and falls into a pile of clothes.

Aalin hears Elisa scream, and runs upstairs.

Elisa spies an object beneath the bookshelf as she attempts to get up. She focuses with one eye to see a media card. When Elisa hears footfalls in the hallway, she scurries for the card, and slips it into the cybernetic reader embedded in her wrist.

Aalin walks into the room. “Are, are you all right?”

Elisa slowly rises. “Just a bit of a tumble. Nothing to bother about.”

“Are you sure?” Aalin asks. “Let me take you to the hospital.”

“No, I’m fine,” Elisa says.

“Okay. We should get to Ispari then,” Aalin says. “We don’t want to risk your husband remembering things we don’t want him to.” Aalin cradles Elisa in his arms and they both embrace. We see Elisa stare into space while Aalin’s voice fades into the background. Elisa’s eyes begin to glaze over with bits of code swirling across. Suddenly, her eyes turn from brown to crimson.

Zota scurries down the hill behind the house and through the parking lot, and into the recreation area. Through a side route, he runs into a cross street. Zota looks behind and around him frantically. He sees no one, and then strolls briskly down the street, further away from the apartment. Ahead, Zota see an intersection to a main street.

At the intersection of Second Street and Bay State Avenue, a bus whisks by Zota. Zota looks in both directions, and sees a bus point on the left and runs to it. On the area map a red circle flashes around the text, “YOU ARE HERE”. Zota taps and holds the map’s zoom control, until he can orient himself to his surroundings on the map.

The image of a handsome, thin faced man with short hair overlays on the map. “
Good afternoon? How may I be of service?
”

Zota turns his attention to the virtual assistant. “I need to get to Fifth and Bay State, fast!” The map begins reorienting itself, and plots the optimum path based on Zota’s request.

“
Go one half-mile, east, by taxi...
”

“No!”

The virtual assistant receded into the screen. “
I’m sorry, but the next bus won’t arrive for another thirty-seven minutes.
”

“I’ll walk,” Zota says.

“
Judging by your perspiration, your load, and labored breath, I would recommend resting for five minutes before proceeding.
”

“Thanks, I’ll walk slowly.”

Director of Protocol hovers over to Ryles, who is being suspended a couple of feet in the air by one of his heavies.

John lays crumpled on the living room couch next to them, in a fetal position, barely conscious.

“I suppose I wasn’t very clear that I expected you not to disappear for three months. It’s very uncharacteristic of you. Which is why you are still alive,” Director of Protocol says. He nods to his heavy, who drops Ryles to the ground. After coughing for a bit, Ryles turn on to her back slowly, wincing in pain. “We can do this all day,” Director of Protocol says.

“Why..why don’t you just...put a bullet in my head? Spare me...the lecture?” Ryles asks.

Director of Protocol whisks his finger up, and the heavy lifts Ryles off the ground again. “Well, I do have approval from the Triad due to your breach of contract.” Director of Protocol fans his hand as he swivels his hover-chair around. “We have searched this place from end to end, and have found no sign of the ware. I take no pleasure in wasting life, especially since you have done good work for us in the past.”