––––––––
The cab driver spent more time looking at me in the rearview mirror than he did watching the road. Fortunately the trip was a short one so he didn't kill us in a head on collision.
When I emerged from the hospital, which I had just learned was Prince George's, I saw the taxi sitting there waiting for a fare. After making up a ridiculous excuse about my patrol car being in the shop, he took me back to the crummy hotel where I left Sammy and Nami. Though he didn't say anything aloud, he thought I was a male stripper. When we pulled up to the hotel I gave him all of the cash in Robertson's wallet. Most of it turned out to be singles, which solidified the driver's misgivings.
"I'm really not a stri—" I started before thinking better of it. "Never mind. I, Officer Jerry Robertson, am a gigolo. Lock up your daughters, or something."
The guy deserved it for sleeping with his wife's sister.
A tangible silence fell over the hotel room as I entered. Sammy and Nami stared at me in utter disbelief.
"Uh, this is a private room, officer," Nami finally said.
"It's me, Ash."
Their eyes roamed up and down my absurd uniform for several more seconds. Then the laughter started. Sammy, nearing hysteria, fell off the bed while clutching her stomach. Nami looked like she was having a conniption fit. Looking down at my ensemble, I couldn't help but join them. I laughed so hard that I started snorting. Pain flared in my chest so I tried to stop, which only made me laugh harder. When one of the buttons popped off the front of the uniform I thought I was going to suffocate.
The blood rushing to my head made the already tight hat feel even more constricting, so I threw it on the closest bed. When Sammy saw the damage on my face she stopped giggling.
"Oh my God, you poor man!"
"It looks worse than it is."
"It looks like you were hit by a car," Nami said.
"Never mind then, Nora, it looks exactly like it feels. But I was hit by a shovel, actually. Twice."
"Oh, we saw it. If the video wasn't classified, I would have uploaded it to YouTube by now."
Sammy walked up and put her hands on either side of my face, inspecting my bruises. I wondered if it was too early to propose.
"Ash, what are we doing here? We need to run away from this madness," she said as she looked into my eyes.
"How did you get away from the police? We watched them arrest you," Nami said.
"I woke up in Prince George's Hospital, detained in a bed. I had to MacGyver my handcuffs and then trick a guard into the room." I looked down at my clothing, "Unfortunately, he wasn't quite my size."
A half empty pizza box on one of the beds caught my attention. I grabbed it and sat down beside Nami at the bistro table.
"The last thing I remember was a shovel flying at my face; then I woke up in the hospital. What did I miss?" I asked as I crammed a slice into my mouth.
Nami's fingers flew across the keyboard. "Here's the sat feed, starting right after you got fucked up by an old man and a lady who drove to the cemetery in a minivan. A woman with four kids. Who's forty-six. Probably starting menopause. Weighs one hundred pounds less than you."
I showed her the chewed up pizza in my mouth as she angled the screen so I could see it. The video started with the little kids stomping on my back. The mom raised the shovel above her head, the edge of the blade pointing down. That blow probably would have killed me. Everyone froze in place at the same time for several seconds, before looking around in bewilderment. Soccer Mom dropped the shovel and bent down to check on me.
The police and a ton of paramedics came a few minutes later. They obviously recognized me because they slapped the handcuffs on before throwing me in the back of an ambulance and driving off. The rest of the paramedics went to work on the flattened government agents.
"What are they saying about the insanity at the cemetery? No way they could cover that up."
"They're calling it a terrorist attack. It doesn't look like they're releasing too many details yet. No mention of you. The major networks are already blaming Iran for causing the incident. People are getting very pissed off. President Thomas is giving a massive speech in front of the Washington Monument in a little bit. They're expecting a huge turnout, too. Everyone thinks he's going to announce we're invading Iran. It looks like he's finally going to be able to start his war."
I found myself wondering, again, how I managed to go from watching television to being at ground zero of a possible war.
"What happened with Murdock?" I asked between bites.
"Apparently he anticipated the satellite surveillance. We lost him when he ran into a recreation center a block away. His disguise was found in a hallway. We think he forced a volunteer to drive him further into the city, as she has no memory of leaving the rec center," Nami said without looking up from her laptop.
Grabbing another piece, I leaned back in my chair and looked at her for a full ten seconds while I chewed.
"That doesn't make any sense. If the goal was to take Murdock out, why not just use a sniper? Sending in those agents was a suicide mission. And with all the crazy technology and resources at Smith's disposal, how could he lose one man after he ran into a rec center?"
Nami stopped typing and looked up at me. "He did say that Murdock wiped out his entire organization. Maybe he doesn't have much to work with?"
"He managed to get you transferred over from the NSA in less than a day and give you access to an intelligence satellite. How did he get so many people in the assault at the cemetery?"
Sammy took a seat on the bed by me. "I've got it! We need to go into business together!"
"Uh, what?" I asked.
"You can read minds, right? Well, my dad owns a restaurant!"
Nami and I looked at each other, wondering what she was talking about.
"And?" I finally asked.
"I know how to run a business! My dad taught me. You and I should open a palm reading shop together! You can read people's minds, and I'll run the business! We'll split the profits sixty/twenty."
So kind, so beautiful, so dumb. I decided to look at her boobs for awhile, rather than instigate the conversation anymore. Nami decided to keep the ball rolling.
"Sixty/twenty?"
"Sorry, I meant sixty/thirty."
Nami looked back and forth from Sammy to me in disbelief.
"Sixty/thirty?"
"Well, what is it then?" Sammy asked.
Nami put her face in her hands and shook it back and forth.
I decided to continue as if that little chat didn't happen.
"Anyway, some of the information Smith gave us isn't adding up. When I got close to Murdock our minds formed some kind of weird bridge where we were able to communicate with each other mentally. He didn't seem to have any idea who I was. I mentioned him trying to kill us with a rocket and capture us using the police. Again, he didn't know what I was talking about. I couldn't tell if he is just so crazy he didn't remember, or if he really was confused."
They both sat there staring at me while they thought through the ramifications of what I said.
"Didn't Smith say that they think Murdock could control people up to three hundred feet away?" Sammy asked.
"Weren't you hiding in the bathroom when he said that?"
"That door might as well be made of cardboard. I could still hear everything. Isn't that what he said? Three hundred feet?"
"Yeah, that's why those people at the funeral didn't kill me; he ran out of range."
"So, when he releases someone, they stop what he was forcing them to do, right? They don't keep going?"
Smith had conveniently left that part out. She was onto something. Maybe there was some hope for her after all.
"I think so. When he let go of Carol Brady – uh, the mom – during the gun fight she had no idea what was going on."
Nami whistled as she sat back in her chair. "So he couldn't have been controlling the men who blew up your apartment. If he had been close enough to manipulate them, you would have felt his presence."
"Maybe. I was drugged out my skull at the time."
"He couldn't have sent the police after us either," Sammy said.
I should have seen this earlier. Everything happened so fast that I never had a chance to sit down and analyze everything I had been told. If Murdock didn't even know who I was, let alone try and kill me, why was Smith convinced it was him? Or did Smith lie about everything from the beginning?
"So who blew up our building?" Sammy asked.
"If I had to guess, I'd say Smith."