22 January 2013
I didn't sleep. Emma did, though, and I divided my time between watching over her and looking though the dirty window to the street below, waiting for the goons to show again. I'd reckoned they'd come back, but so far nothing, so I let her sleep her fitful sleep. She'd been through some, and it was showing as she tossed and turned on the bed. Poor girl. As if it wasn't bad enough being hooked up with a cop, she'd somehow been dragged into the criminal underbelly. But why? A million questions screamed at me for an answer, but I didn't want to know. Not just now anyway. I'd put on my coat because the heating in the room wasn't working, and after all our exertions, at 2am it was cold. Lighting a cigarette, I could feel the disc in its pouch in my inside pocket. I took it out and rolled it around in my hand. Was it this? Was this thing what these assholes were looking for? I still didn't really understand exactly what it was, just what it did for me. I found my thoughts drifting towards my father. He'd always said I had some kind of ability, psychic maybe. I'd always dismissed it at ramblings, a bedtime story to tell your son to fill his imagination, make him forget that his father was rarely around. He was pretty heavily into all that sort of stuff, made it his own thing, accompanied by self funded tests on subjects he'd found sitting in doorways, only too happy to take his twenty bucks for a couple of hours of their time. He got what he wanted, and they got whiskey. For years there was a constant stream of these hobos coming into our house and filling up the spare rooms. He'd attach electrodes and wires to them and measure brainwaves and possible psychic reactions. They didn't care, they knew they'd get their liqour. But he must have gotten results because I could remember him publishing these papers time and again. It started to get serious when I saw his name and picture in the papers. Around that time he'd tried to get mom involved. She'd had enough of it and just left. Didn't even say anything to me, just walked out the door. Love ya, Mom. He didn't seem bothered. Just carried on with ever more sophisticated experiments. I closed myself away from it all, he didn't seem to want to know me. He kept up the tests, and they were getting bigger and bolder. More people just kept beating a path to our door, but not hobos, normal people had read about his work and were willingly volunteering to be subjects. I was old enough to leave home, in fact I'd already passed my own tests and was a beat cop, a real rookie. But I didn't leave just then, it was only when it all became too big and had taken over the house, that I thought I should go. He was making real advances, I'd secretly started to pay attention and crept into his private office every now and again to catch up on what he was doing. And on one of those secret trips was when I first saw strange glowing lights coming from some of the rooms. Some white, some red. Occasionally green. I hadn't a clue what they meant or what or where they were coming from. That was when I'd made up my mind to leave home. On my last day, my father caught me just as I was about walk out the door for the final time. He handed me the pouch, and simply said, 'Son I know it hasn't been right. Look after this. In time you'll know what it is, and it'll look after you.' He'd had his hands on my shoulders, and a small smile was playing on his lips. Then the smile vanished, and his hands sprang away as if he'd been touching something dirty. He turned on his heel and strode quickly into his office, leaving me in the hallway. Thanks, I'd thought, throwing the pouch into one of my bags. I got in my car and drove. I never saw him again, unless it was in the papers or on TV. Eventually the government came for him, and that was the last I'd heard of him.
The cigarette had long gone out. I was holding a stick of ash, which I threw on the floor. Returning from my thoughts, I glanced through the window. All was still quiet, the odd drunken bum waddling past, a couple of yellow cabs. I was thankful. Emma was stirring. I crossed to the bed and planted a kiss on her forehead. Her eyes slowly opened and a gentle smile broke out on her lips. I smiled back. The realisation of the nights events obviously came back to her, for her face started to frown. 'Slowly,' I said. 'There'll be plenty time for us, I promise. Let's get our asses out of this mess. I'll ask, you tell me what you can.' She sat up and relaxed into the pillow. 'Where should I start?' 'With the things I'll need to know. The apartment. You and these goons trashed it. You were looking for something. I need to know what.' I found this kind of technique, breaking an otherwise long winded conversation down into full stops, generally worked with interrogations. I'd hoped it would be useful here, hopefully to get straight to the heart of the matter. The look of total confusion on her face told me otherwise. 'Me? Trashed... Our apartment? But... I mean... I don't remember... I couldn't have!' 'It was you baby. I saw it.' I was holding the disc. She knew about it, and understood what I meant. 'I really can't remember. I can remember them coming for me though. You'd been called away on a case... They came a little later... Took me as I got out of the car at the mall.' 'Keep going.' 'Ok... I must have been out, I don't remember getting to that diner. But I remember coming round in the diner, tied to a chair. I can see the drip... The drip! They must have drugged me...' 'I saw you on the drip too. Did they say anything? Can you remember? Sorry to push, hon, but these are the things I need to know.' 'Ok. There was talk about a drug... Some brand new drug...the effects were kinda like hypnosis...yes, that's right, but they couldn't get a dose to last more than a couple of minutes. There was something they needed...something that would make it last longer. That's it, that's all I got.' A drug. With effects that were similar to hypnosis. To make people do things against their will, but without them even knowing. 'Well that would explain the apartment.' 'Wait! They said... yes that's right. They mentioned Jim. Actually quite a lot. They talked about your father.' I was scrambled. My father. A hypnosis drug. The disc. All tied in. But how? What the hell was going on? Call it cops instinct, but I was suddenly acutely aware that I hadn't kept up my windowside vigil. I crossed to the window and looked to the street. There were cars returning and people entering the diner. And they weren't your boys in blue. Instinctively I held a hand up to Emma, motioning her to stay quiet and down, out of sight. I could see the goons going into their meeting place. They'd looked for me. Hadn't found me. They'd figured we had ran, but were now thinking of other options. One of them glanced to the motel and looked up. Shit. Had I ducked quick enough? Pressing my finger to my lips told Emma to stay really quiet, which she did. Looking back out the window, I could see the goon had gone, but not for long. He reappeared into the street, dragging Mo behind him. Mo on his knees. A lot of shouting. Mo shouting back. A single gunshot. Most of Mo's head coming apart and landing several feet away in his own motels doorway. Time to leave. Several of the other goons had heard the shot and had come running from the diner. A quick conference took place after which they all craned their heads towards our window. They didn't see me this time, I wasn't there. I grabbed Emma and exiting the room, we made for the corridor. I could hear them on the ground floor, their angry sounding voices travelling up through the stairwells to the top floor. And then I could hear their heavy footfalls as they ascended the stairs. It would take a little time, but not too long. Good job Mo's elevators never worked. Poor Mo. Harmless enough, and a good stool. Ah well, I had others. I looked to the end of the hall. No door, but a window. I could hear their gruff voices and heavy brogued footsteps getting louder. I patted myself down and was pleased to feel the outline of the gun and the disc through my coat. I took Emma's hand and we ran to the window. Mo kept all his windows locked, so smashing it open with the butt of the gun, I turned and smiled at her. 'Ready?' She smiled back, which filled me with renewed confidence. 'Ready.' There was only going to be one way out, and that was down...
Replay 6 • Opuss № I