She Is Risen (She Is Risen: The Gun Control Case Studies) (5 page)

Downtown Chicago

            Devlin approaches The Marriott Hotel sprinting
like a fawn being pursued by a lion.  He spits out more fresh blood, not
remembering a time when he ever had a tooth bleed so much.  The blood is
coursing rapidly through his temples as he looks over his shoulder at the
approaching police car.  From just a few yards away, the siren is deafening,
and the police officers are close enough that their blue and red strobes are
flashing on the sidewalk under his feet.  As he hears the vehicle stop, and
both doors open, Devlin increases his speed; his long blonde hair swinging
wildly across the back of his jacket.

            An older woman has stopped near the side door of
the hotel, watching the pursuit with intrigue and terror.  She stares frozen in
fear for a moment, her eyes opening wider, noticing that Devlin is moving in
her direction. 

            “Oh shit!” The woman exclaims, realizing that
she may be in danger.

            With shaky hands she immediately removes her
hotel key card and swipes it across the reader, pulling the door open in
desperation.  As he sees his opportunity fading fast, Devlin dives and grabs
the woman’s tanned legs.  His left hand misses badly and gets tangled on her
thick pink skirt, but his right hand gains a firm grip on her right calf
muscle.  Despite this small victory, the rest of his body lands heavily on the
ground and his left knee smacks the hard cement surface, inducing a surge of
pain that forces him to close his eyes for a moment. 

            “Get away! Get away!”  The woman shouts,
slapping at his hands feverishly and swinging her jade purse wildly at his
head. 

The small bag doesn’t deter him,
but as the woman pulls back with her weight, he strains to keep his grip,
raising his head.  Soon he feels a strong thud on the bottom of his jaw from a
solid object, and realizes that the woman just kicked him with her high heel. 
Devlin rolls backward, protecting his face without thinking, and releases his
grip on the woman; however, he quickly moves his body to the left, and uses his
weight to push the door closed.  From this position, he reaches up and snatches
the key card from her hand.  The woman screams with astounding pitch as her
escape route is blocked and she runs toward the corner of the building to
safety. 

            Devlin swallows hard, knowing that the throbbing
in his jaw will have to wait.  He looks back at the police officers approaching
from less than thirty feet away.  The muscular, black officer looks
intimidating, his eyes are locked on Devlin like a heat seeking missile, and
his redheaded partner bears a similar expression, treading only a few steps
behind. 

Devlin uses his stomach muscles and
arms to get back on his feet, clumsily moving in an unbalanced panic.  He
swipes the key card across the reader, watching the small light turn green as
he opens the steel door and strafes sideways behind it.  From this position, he
holds it open with his right leg against the frame to let the dog inside.

“Gloria, come inside!”  He shouts
to the Golden Labrador as he leans sideways and pushes the heavy, steel door
further open.

            The dog looks confused for a moment, but runs
under his leg through the half-open door.  He is about to join her in the
hotel, but the steel door suddenly slams into his thigh.  Devlin’s jaw opens in
surprise as both officers crash into the door with their weight, pinching his
leg at the middle of the thigh muscle, causing tremendous pressure on his
bone.  He grits his teeth, not knowing if the bone is going to snap.  His hands
are shaking against the metal surface of the door as he absorbs the powerful
blow. 

            Despite the pain, Devlin looks up in
desperation, thinking fluidly as the door continues to compress his leg.  The
momentum suddenly reverses, and as he feels the two officers trying to pull the
door open, he seizes the steel handle with both hands.  Devlin looks up to see
their hands wrapped around the steel, with fingernails turning white from the
strain.  For half a second, he pulls hard on the door handle, feeling their
resistance from the other side as the door begins to slowly open.  Then he
releases the handle and kicks the center of the door, which forces him flat on
his back.  The rough hotel carpet gives Devlin some loving burns on his arms
and elbows as he slides backwards. 

            Outside the hotel, the officers have both
dropped to the ground from the combined force of Devlin’s kick and their own
resistance.  They scramble to their feet feverishly, trying to grab the door
before the spring closes it automatically, but it is just out of their reach. 
As the door shuts and locks, Devlin feels a bit of relief.  He rises painfully
to his feet, having experienced severe bruising all through his right thigh
muscles and bone from being compressed between the door and the doorframe.  His
heart is pounding in his ears as he looks for the key card, and soon finds it
on the floor a few feet away. 

            After scooping up the key card he forces himself
to move forward, trying the card in one door after another; all of the lights
coming up red.  Devlin knows his time is short and moves to the second floor,
hoping the card will work on one of the rooms closest to the side door where he
entered the building.  He rapidly climbs the stairs with Gloria, pushing
himself to move a bit faster as he ignores the nagging pain in his right thigh. 

            When they reach the second floor, Devlin has no
luck trying another ten doors.  Just when he is about to try a few others, he
hears voices coming from the bottom of the stairs.  The voices sound angry and
authoritative, but he can’t make out what they are saying.  Devlin shakes his
head in frustration, moving quickly to the third floor, praying that the card
will work in one of the doors nearby. 

            As he reaches the third floor, he sees a family
of six approaching from further down the hallway.  Within a split second, the
four children notice Gloria, and quicken their pace to inspect the large,
golden dog.  While the children make their way toward Gloria, the parents stop
near the elevators, staring at Devlin with suspicion, and eyeing his dog with
more curiosity. 

            From the husband’s long, red Hawaiian shirt, the
wife’s bikini, and children all dressed in swimming suits, Devlin ascertains
that they are headed for the pool.  The group of children is giving off a lot
of noisy chatter, talking about the dog as they move faster to invade his
space.  Devlin pats his leg, signaling Gloria to follow him to the far end of
the hall and away from the curious group.  As he reaches the far end of the
building, Devlin continues using the card on door after door, hoping to find
one that opens. 

            “Did you forget your room number there, buddy?” 
The large man asks, his face becoming red as he realizes they will have to wait
for their children to pet the dog.

            “Yeah, I was talking on the phone when I checked
in,” Devlin begins closing his eyes for a moment of nervous irritation, “and I
just can’t remember what the clerk told me.”

            When he finally tries the seventh door, the
light turns green, and he breathes a heavy sigh of relief.  Devlin opens the
door, urging Gloria to get inside before the mob of little people is upon her.

            “I apologize,” Devlin says quickly without
remorse, “she’s a service dog and we’re not supposed to let anyone touch them… 
Have a good day!”

            Devlin disappears into the hotel room, closing
the door behind him as the group of children approaches within just a few
feet.  He shuts his eyes for a moment, leaning against the door, realizing that
he can’t stay here for long.  After taking the proper amount of time to clear
his head, he steps over to the window and the balcony, but the drop is too far,
and he decides it will serve as a last minute alternative, especially with
Gloria. 

            Devlin strides into the bathroom, leans over the
sink and uses the small faucet to run some cool water, which he immediately
splashes on his face.  He stops for a moment to gaze at himself in the mirror,
realizing that he is going about this all wrong.  Every man who is being hunted
makes exactly these same mistakes, and the end result is that they all die in a
violent shootout with the police.  As he looks into his blue eyes and examines
his long, blonde hair in the mirror, it reminds him of home, his wife, and
everything that makes his life real. 

            He steps out of the bathroom towards the large
windows of the upscale hotel room.  For the first time in a few days his mind
feels clear and he has a sense of freedom and duty.  Devlin thinks back to his
studies from the
The Art of War
by Sun Tzu, and knows that the
goal is to destroy his enemy from the inside. 

            As he takes a seat on the bed, Gloria steps over
and puts her head on his right knee.  He strokes her soft, golden fur, staring
out the window, and formulating a plan to hurt Henri Edwards in the most
meaningful way. 

            He recalls the case studies: a badly burned car
accident victim, an older man whose young daughter died in a bus crash, the war
veteran who returned to a wife assaulted by a gang, and a paranoid
schizophrenic woman still in love with her husband after twenty years.  Devlin
puts his head down in shame, knowing that he would have followed through under Henri’s
psychotic influence to destroy those people.  The callous nature of what is
being done to them in the name of safer streets is something that numbs the
soul, and grieves the heart.

            His thoughts caress different topics, searching
for the right means to harm the operation.  How does one man injure and spite a
veritable army?  Devlin considers the possibility of leaking the story about
the blind woman.  Although this would ruin Henri’s political career, if it
worked, it still may not stop the operation to study gun violence.  He ponders
the novelty of getting the police and other local authorities involved, but who
will listen to him after he has been labeled as an enemy of the United States?   

            Devlin breathes deeply, clearing his head and
forcing himself to focus.  He closes his eyes for a moment, fearing that his
ultimate conclusion might be remiss.  The last thing he wants to do is give up
the life he has built with Yulia after fighting so hard to get back from The
Gulf War.  He looks at Gloria and considers the consequences, concluding that
there is no other way; his approach must begin with a direct assault on the CIA
black site. 

            Gloria raises her ears and turns her head toward
the solid, white door of the hotel room.  Devlin follows her gaze, and is not
surprised to hear a knock a few seconds later.  He gets up from the bed,
treading cautiously across the carpet, fully alert with fresh adrenaline still
pumping through his veins. 

            When Devlin is only five feet from the door,
standing just off to the right, he decides to engage the mystery visitor.

            “Who’s there?”  He asks, shouting a bit so that
his voice carries through the solid pinewood.

            “Room service, Sir;” a sickly male voice replies
through the door, “I have some champagne and strawberries for you.” 

            “What’s the main number to this hotel?” Devlin
asks the mystery visitor as he pulls out his cell phone.

            “The number is one eight-hundred, six two seven,
seven four six eight.  Is there a problem, Sir?”  The waiter asks, raising his
voice at the end of the question.

            Devlin looks up the number using the Internet on
his Smartphone and sees that it matches the main reservation number.  His
suspicion fades, realizing that the waiter replied too fast for someone who
would have been searching for the number on the Internet, or having it relayed
to them.  He steps up to the door and peers through the peephole.  There is a
young man standing alone in the hallway next to a white food cart with a bottle
of champagne on ice next to a domed, stainless steel serving dish.

            After a moment of introspection, Devlin decides
to slowly open the door.  He looks upon the young waiter with suspicious eyes,
inspecting his facial expression and uniform for authenticity.  The young man
is tall and well-groomed with bright orange hair and pale skin.  He sniffles
somewhat, indicating that he has a cold or allergies. 

            Devlin keeps his eyes fixed on the waiter as he
opens the door just enough for the cart to enter.

            “Stay out there and push it to me,” Devlin
orders with a half smile, “I don’t want you getting me sick.”

            The young man twists his face somewhat, feeling
rejected in a way, but he complies with Devlin’s request, pushing the cart
delicately into the room while he waits outside. 

            From inside the room, Devlin exhibits tension as
he oversees the young man making his delivery.  After the cart enters through
the doorframe, he feels as though he just invited a Trojan Horse into this
equation, and it could cost him everything.  When the waiter has pushed the
cart as far as it will go, Devlin waves him away with his right hand.  Then he
pulls the cart the rest of the way with his left, and simultaneously swings the
door closed with his right foot.