The hospital food sucked ass.
I’d often wondered if they fed that shit to people so they would want to get discharged as soon as possible. If that was the intent, then it was definitely working on me. I would do a cartwheel out of the front door as soon as possible.
It might not have been as bad if my nurse was at least moderately attractive. But no, I had a woman in her sixties named Agnes taking care of me. And for some unknown reason, she enjoyed feeding me pudding. My right arm worked OK, except for the sprained wrist, so I really could have handled that myself.
She just loved shoveling that stuff into my mouth. Couldn’t say that I blamed her.
I was awesome.
My injuries, however, were not.
My face looked like I boxed ten rounds with Mike Tyson.
The bullet went clean through my shoulder, so they just had to fix me up—no surgery required. I’d have a nice scar from it, but chicks dig scars.
So I’ve been told. That better be true.
The damage to my knee wasn’t as bad as it had seemed. Partial PCL tear. Strained ACL and MCL. I told that dude he kicked like a sissy. I wondered how his nap in the elevator was. Uncomfortable, hopefully.
The biggest complaint I had was that they wouldn’t let me leave the hospital. That and they kept me drugged twenty-four hours a day. Whenever men in suits came to talk to me, they doubled the dosage. They overdid it sometimes, and the government goons couldn’t get straight answers out of me.
I’d been hammered with questions for a solid week now.
I’d been given no answers.
Pissed me off.
Through their utter confusion at my participation in the events that day, I figured a few things out for myself.
First, they had no idea who I was. That told me that either Smith wasn’t working for the government, or he wasn’t telling anyone what had been going on. A rogue, if you will.
Second, they had confused looks on their faces when I asked if they’d arrested the guy in the hotel. The Man in Black had escaped before the police had arrived. That didn’t give me a warm and fuzzy feeling about being stuck in a hospital. I couldn’t handle another fight with him.
Third, I still didn’t trust guys who wore suits.
The bastards wouldn’t even tell me if I was going to be charged with any crimes. The fact that I was handcuffed to the bed didn’t give me a lot of hope that they’d let me walk out of there a free man.
They did let me watch TV though, thank God.
My name was all over the news. Pictures of me popped up every two minutes.
Great.
All I needed to deal with was a bunch of paparazzi douche bags.
Fortunately, my ability hadn’t been brought up from what I could tell. A bunch of videos from cameras and cell phones had captured me blowing Murdock’s face off, but none of them had an angle of me getting the gun. That was a minor miracle.
The blowback from that would have been catastrophic.
So far, the official story was that terrorists had spent years infiltrating the key members of the U.S. government. They then used a combination of drugs and mind control to manipulate people. That was how they got Secret Service agents and cops to kill each other.
It was a ludicrous story that I couldn’t believe people actually thought was true.
Then again, who would have believed the truth?
I peered over at the remote sitting on the stand beside my bed. All week, I’d been trying to get the damn thing to fly into my hand like the gun had. That was the dream for all guys—not having to get up to retrieve something.
How many beers could I make fly from the fridge to my spot on the couch?
Nirvana.
No matter how hard I concentrated, I couldn’t get the remote to budge even a millimeter. Whatever magic I performed that night, I just wasn’t able to replicate it again. That didn’t stop me from trying.
I hadn’t seen anyone I knew since they brought me here, so when Drew walked through the door, I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw his ever-present suit.
“What?” he asked. “I got a booger hanging?”
“You’re wearing a suit. I don’t trust people in suits.”
“I always wear a suit.”
“That should tell you something.”
He walked across the room and looked at the IV bag hanging by the bed. “Sorry to see that being locked up in a hospital hasn’t knocked that piss-poor sarcasm out of your system.”
I went to raise my left hand to crack him on the shoulder, but the movement hurt.
Drew saw me wince. “Moron.”
“Shut up. So they aren’t keeping you locked up too?”
“Nope.” He sat down in a plastic chair beside my bed. “They’ve been debriefing the hell out of me though. Today was my first day back at work.”
“What about all the shit we went through at the police station? They’re letting you back on the force after we had that shoot out?”
“The president gave me a full pardon for the ‘crimes’ we committed in the process of saving his life.” He used air quotes when he said crimes. He leaned back and put his feet up on my bed. “They also offered to give me a few months of paid leave, but I couldn’t stay away from the job that long.”
“Lucky bastard.” I waved my good arm around at the furnishings of my hospital room. “You can see the luxury I’m living in.”
“They know that I was the real hero last week, that’s why. This place is a lot nicer than that dump you call home, anyway. They haven’t told you what their plans are for you yet?”
“Not a peep.”
Drew rubbed his freshly shaved head. “That doesn’t sound so good. They did tell me that I could finally visit you today, so that’s something. They can’t plan to lock you away if they’re letting us talk, right?”
I shrugged. “These people are idiots—who knows what they’re thinking. Have you talked to Sammy?”
“No. I called her a few times, but she won’t answer. Sorry, Ashley.”
“I guess I can’t really blame her. Why would she ever want to see us again? All I did was screw up her life.” Though I wore my tough-guy face, I was pretty disappointed that she didn’t even want to talk. It made sense, but it still sucked. “What about that little shit, Nami?”
“She’s soaking up all the benefits they’re throwing her way. Paid leave, a new, higher-paying position, and a bonus for her troubles. Have you seen her giving interviews on CNN yet?”
I had. It was some of the most hilarious television I’d ever seen. The first live interview she’d done was cut short because she kept saying ‘fuck’. All the subsequent interviews were cut up and bleeped to hell. They were closer to SNL skits than actual interviews.
The girl was a firecracker.
We laughed about all the crazy stuff she’d said for a few minutes before I finally caved in and asked about Melissa.
“She’s gotta hate me more than ever.”
Drew held his hands up and tilted his head to the side. “C’est la vie, Ashley. You did almost get me killed about fifty times.”
“Yeah, but now you’re a national hero.”
“Ash, I’m pretty sure that you could save her from a burning building, and she would still hate your guts.”
“I’m so glad the two of you are still together.”
“She’s better than your nonexistent girlfriend.”
“Ouch.”
We swapped stories about our interrogations and the fallout of that day. Drew didn’t know anything about what had happened with Smith either. They stayed tightlipped about it whenever he asked.
The country was in turmoil. People didn’t trust each other. Scammy companies were coming out of the woodwork with fake tests for the ‘mind-control drugs’ that didn’t actually exist.
Gun sales were through the roof.
Chicken hawks were calling for a new war, even though they didn’t know who had attacked them yet.
And that fallout was just beginning.
Three men, all wearing grey suits, stepped through the door. More feds. Great.
The lead man stopped a few feet from the bed. “Lieutenant, I’ve been ordered to—”
“Why do all of you still call me that? I haven’t been in the army for half a damn decade.”
He stared at me for several seconds before continuing. “Mr. Benson, I’ve been ordered to hand you this. A call will come through shortly.” He gave me an iPad.
“A call on an iPad?”
Drew snickered. “The future is here, Ashley. It’s probably a video chat.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t the most technologically advanced guy. My limited budget didn’t allow for much food, let alone high-priced gadgets.
One of the men pointed at Drew. “He needs to leave. This is for your eyes only.”
“Hmm.” I tapped my index finger on my lips. “How about you kiss my ass?”
Drew chuckled. He kept his feet on the bed and didn’t give any indication that he was going to leave.
The government stooges exchanged a glance. The one in front said, “But—”
“Did I stutter? He’s not going anywhere. He knows everything that I do. Take a hike.”
The men grumbled for a few seconds before leaving and closing the door behind them.
I said, “Goddamn, I hate the government.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
The iPad shook in my hands. “It’s vibrating like one of those sex toys Melissa uses on you.” I handed it to Drew. “How do I make it stop?”
He grabbed it from me, refusing to make eye contact. “Goddamn mind reader always knowing my business.”
After making a few swipes with his finger, President Thomas’ face filled most of the screen.
“Mr. Lloyd? I was expecting to speak to Mr. Benson.”
“He’s right here, sir.” Drew handed it back to me and grimaced. He mouthed ‘whoops’ as I took the iPad back.
It was a little surreal to have a video chat with the President of the United States. On an iPad. In a hospital.
I held the tablet out in front of me. “Hello, sir.” I hated calling people ‘sir’, but this was the president after all.
“Mr. Benson, you’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”
“Well, I’m not dead, so there’s that.”
“I was warned that you had a bit of a smart mouth.”
“Yes, sir.”
Thomas cleared his throat. “I don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief. You might as well angle that around so Mr. Lloyd can see me. I wanted this to be one on one, but I suppose exceptions can be made for the two of you.”
I shifted in the bed, doing my best to ignore the ache in my shoulder. Drew leaned over and peered into the screen.
Thomas said, “I owe you my life. I apologize for not thanking you in person, but my team feels that getting in close proximity to someone who can learn national security secrets within a few seconds wouldn’t be too intelligent. I tend to agree with them, unfortunately. The country owes you a debt greater than they’ll ever know. Obviously, we haven’t, and we won’t, release all of the details of what took place that day. The world isn’t ready for that kind of knowledge.”
Maybe he was right about that, but I hated the idea of someone telling six billion people what was good for them. It took an incredible amount of arrogance to even think something like that. It was their secret government agency, The Psych Ward, or whatever in the hell it was called, that had caused the problem in the first place.
Thomas continued, “I’m going to be honest with you now, Mr. Benson. We’ve had a lot of discussions about what to do with you. Your friends have all been released from custody on the condition that they take an oath of silence. That’s a harder proposition to offer you. Knowing what you can do, it’s difficult for some of my staff to cope with the idea of you walking freely in the streets. They fear you’ll do something damaging to our intelligence agencies or that your talents will be purchased by the highest bidder and used in corporate espionage.”
“Sir, you don’t need to worry about that,” I said. “I’m guessing that my apartment has been torn apart by your men by now. Have you seen the pictures? Do you know how I live?”
“I have and that’s been one of the best arguments for your release. If you wanted to damage us, or anyone else, you would have done so by now. That’s why I’ve ordered your full pardon as well, but with a few caveats.”
Oh, great. Now I would owe favors to the man whose life I saved. That was a little back asswards to me, but I wasn’t in a position to negotiate.
“As you know, all the parties involved in these tragedies haven’t been brought to justice yet. When we have a lead on their whereabouts, we might need your assistance during interrogations.”
“You’re talking about Smith?”
“Among others.”
“Who is he, anyway?”
“A traitor and a coward.”
“No sh… uhh… no kidding.” I wanted to swat myself in the forehead. “He told me that he ran something called The Psych Ward and that he had eight telepaths working under him. He said they needed me because their operatives were overseas. Was any of that true?”
Thomas paused and looked to someone behind the camera. He nodded at whatever they said before turning his attention back to us. “I can’t tell you everything, of course, but I owe you a few answers. Yes, he ran a small counterterrorism agency, and it was known as The Psych Ward. I hated that name. We learned several months ago that he wasn’t just playing for our team. I ordered his termination.”
Drew whistled. “He didn’t take that well.”
Thomas looked over the camera again. “Remember who is in charge,” he said to the person behind it. “No, Mr. Lloyd, he did not. We screwed up, to be honest. Smith used his telepaths to infiltrate several of our intelligence agencies. He’s poached many of our resources and killed a lot of good men. We aren’t even sure how many moles he has in our midst. Everyone is a suspect right now. He poses a danger that I can’t even articulate.”
“Are there really eight other telepaths operating out there?” I asked.
“I can’t confirm or deny that. And with that, I must be going. We’ll be in touch, Mr. Benson.”
“Sir, I have two more questions. I went through a lot last week without even knowing why.”
Thomas ran his finger over his lips. “You can ask them, but I might not answer.”
“Why did you give that speech if you knew Murdock was still out there?”
“We had video evidence that Murdock had died during his attack on the police station. He fooled some of my best. They’ve joined the unemployment line.”
I didn’t understand what evidence that could have been, but at least it made me think that President Thomas wasn’t a complete moron. A partial moron, maybe, but not a complete one.
“Last question, Mr. Benson. I have meetings set up from now until the end of time.” Thomas looked at his watch and grimaced.
“How did Smith know that Murdock was going after you at the monument? They couldn’t even locate him without my help, so I don’t understand how they were able to anticipate his movements after that.”
“During the autopsy on Murdock’s body, they found a small tracking device attached to his shoe. We believe it was attached during the battle at the cemetery.” Thomas signaled to someone behind the camera. “Thanks again for your service, gentlemen. We’ll be in touch.”
The video feed cut off. I dropped the iPad into my lap.
I thought I had enough pieces to put the majority of the puzzle together. Smith used me to locate Murdock and then tracked him up until the attempted assassination at the monument. After I did my part to find Murdock, Smith wanted to kill me and everyone else who might have known about my involvement.
Smith was still out there in the wild. He had access to men, weapons, and information.
And I’d screwed up his plans.
The government was going to release me, but the odds were high that my apartment would be bugged and that I’d have a tail following me everywhere I went. They already told me that I would have to help them again in the future.
All of that had happened to me because I walked into that damned bank.
Drew gave me a thumbs-up. “They’re going to release you.”
I eased back into the bed, letting my head settle against the pillow. “But how long is my leash going to be?”
I stared at my hands.
