Stringer cursed under his breath as he slunk through the hallways of George Washington General.
He was too late, the woman and boy were gone. He tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible; he could not afford to draw attention to himself.
He was still filled with rage after the verbal altercation with the nurse on duty and felt livid to think that this Nurse Portman would talk to him with such obvious disdain.
He had to fight hard against his blood lust. He would have taken sheer pleasure in slitting her throat.
He sat on the tattered black faux leather lounge in the lobby of the hospital and had to take stock of his situation.
Where would he go from here?
He had gotten nowhere with the fat snooty nurse, he did not even ascertain where in the hospital the woman had been.
He closed his eyes and focussed on the warm rush of the nicotine neural infuser as it flooded his brain with a combination of nicotine and endorphins. He allowed the drugs to focus his mind.
He knew that he had to eliminate the boy and would probably have to eliminate the boy’s Mother as well – no loose ends.
He thought of other ways of finding out where the Mother and son had disappeared. He wondered whether he could use his neural net receiver to tune in to the Police emergency frequencies and try to determine if there was an all point’s bulletin or Amber alert in progress concerning the woman and the boy.
He was in the process of fine tuning his neural net receiver when he perceived an incoming urgent encoded message, the red flashes prominent in his peripheral vision.
He rose from the lounge and went to find a more private setting before allowing the caller through.
The storage cupboard was cramped and the smell of ammonia was overwhelming. He blocked out his discomfort and focussed on the call. He moaned when he realised the identity of the caller.
“I’m busy, what the fuck do you want?”
“Forget the attitude Stringer. We have been monitoring your performance. As you know we are furious with your departure from protocol to satisfy some egocentric urge for revenge. You were sloppy and unprofessional.”
“Fuck off. What I do in my spare time is my business!”
“Nevertheless, we are still watching you.
Have you taken care of the boy? You are running out of time.”
Stringer could feel the tendrils of rage travel through him as he fought to focus on the neural intruder.
“I’m on it, just fuck off and let me do my job”, and with that he severed the link and slammed his fist into the wall.
He opened the storage cupboard door and headed back to the hospital lobby. He needed to sit and clear his head and work out his next move. The call had unnerved him and he needed to call upon the anesthetising affects of yet another infuser.
As he sat and calmed himself, he could see that a young, well dressed couple had entered the hospital and were standing at the reception counter.
He could tell from their appearance and demeanour that the couple were from some government agency.
Probably feds, he thought as he studied the two.
He realised that this might be a good opportunity to find out what the agents knew. He tapped the side of his head below his right ear and instantly amplified the voices.
He picked up a magazine and pretended not to be paying any attention to the two.
His suspicions about the two were confirmed as he listened in on the conversation. He heard the sensual tones of the female agent’s voice.
“Hello, my name is Special Agent Alicia Cambridge and this is my partner, Special Agent Arnold Thompson. We are from the FBI and we are looking for Ms Sylvan Peters. We have been told that she had been attacked and was admitted here for treatment.”
As Stringer listened he could hear the distinctive sound of paper being shuffled before there was an answer from the duty nurse.
“Look I’m sorry but I have already spoken to the authorities about this matter. I wasn’t on duty when Ms Peters vanished. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m very busy.”
Stringer heard the attitude in the young duty nurse’s voice and smiled to himself. He could imagine the chagrin the nurse’s response would have caused the two feds.
As he listened, he smiled again as he heard the smooth male voice of the other agent intervene. Judging by his tone, Stringer could tell that the Agent was trying the ‘come on’ approach.
“Look Nurse . . err”
“Portman,” the duty nurse responded.
“Yes I can see that from your name badge. Tell me, what is your first name Nurse Portman?”
“It’s Julie.”
“Well Julie, we urgently need to find Ms Peters and we would really appreciate any assistance you can give us. Do you have any contact details we could use? I promise that I won’t tell anyone.”
Stringer could tell from the giggle from the young nurse that the Agent’s approach was working.
“I do have some details. You have to promise me that you won’t tell the Matron. Do you want mine as well? You know, in case you have any more questions you might want me to answer personally.”
“Well Julie, how about you give me both Ms Peters and your details as well. You never know, oh and don’t worry I promise I won’t tell a soul,” the agent said as he winked at the young nurse.
Stringer could hear the Nurse giggling as she clacked away on the PC keyboard as she brought up the relevant details for the two agents.
He cursed himself for not trying the sweet approach. But then he realised that he didn’t exactly have the kind of face that elicited attraction.
He heard the conversation wrap up and the two agents quickly exited the building, obviously heading off to find the woman that he needed to eliminate.
He realised that he needed to follow the agents.
He threw the magazine back on the table as he double tapped his voice amplification module and brought the sensitivity back to normal levels and then quickly exited the hospital.
Once outside, he watched as the two agents jumped into a typically black Government Issue van and sped off.
He ran to his Camaro and began his pursuit. He knew that he had to stay a long way behind them, he couldn’t risk them knowing that he was following them. He frowned as he drove. The agents had just added a further complication.
Will he have two more bodies on his hands?
As the van pulled into Washington’s derelict district, Stringer could not shake an odd feeling of déjà vu. He had driven these streets before. He recognised the filthy run down edifices.
He slowed when he noticed the van pull up outside a building earmarked for demolition. The same building that he had used on his last assignment. That concreted his belief that the boy had seen him.
He pulled over and decided to use surveillance instead of getting in too close. He tapped his voice amplification module again as he watched the agents disembark their vehicle. He smiled when he heard the female agent ask the other agent a question that offered up critical intel.
“Okay this is the Paradise Apartments, what apartment is she in?”
“She’s in apartment 401.”
Stringer watched as the agents entered the building as he placed another infuser on his tongue. He let the drugs wash over him and exhaled deeply as he subconsciously rubbed the TDI on the back of his neck. He realised that his time was running out.
The deadline put added urgency into tying up the loose ends. He knew that he had to get the boy and his Mother before the Feds did.
He carefully and quickly exited the car. He knew that he had to stay close to the agents without being spotted.
As he entered the building he pulled his gun out of the waistband of his jeans. He felt the cold metal in his hands and smiled as he started climbing the stairs stealthily in pursuit of the agents.
He could hear them talking, they were at least three flights ahead of him. He increased his speed a little but made sure to keep in the shadows and tread as lightly as possible.
The plan was formulating in his mind as he moved. He would wait until the agents entered the apartment of the boy and his Mother and then hide out of sight in the corridor and as soon as the agents entered the corridor with the boy and his Mother he would take out the two agents, kill the boy and then he would have plenty of time to play with the Mother before he slit her throat.
Perfect!
As he reached the top landing of the stairwell he paused behind the door and listened. He could hear the agents talking as they were knocking on the door of the apartment.
“Ms Peters, open up, this is the FBI. We need to talk to you.”
Stringer listened as the knocking grew more persistent and then suddenly stopped. He could tell that there was no reply to the agents and that the woman and child were obviously not there. He could hear the approaching footsteps of the two agents.
Change of plan, he thought as he silently made his way back down the stairwell and rushed back to his car.
He had just gotten into his car and ducked down as the two agents exited the building and got into their van.
He watched as the van moved off and disappeared around the corner and then quickly got out of his car and rushed back up the four flights of stairs.
Stringer smiled as he easily picked the lock of the apartment and quietly entered. He crinkled his nose against the overwhelming stench of mould and half eaten food scraps that littered the floor.
He noticed that the dwelling had been recently occupied as the kettle was still slightly warm. He moved towards the single bedroom and saw the blood stained sheets and the evidence of vomit. It was then that he saw the note.
The handwriting was shaky but the information was priceless. He smiled when he read the contents.
The boy is at his Grand Mother’s house, excellent, he thought as he memorised the address and then crumpled up the paper and stuffed it into his pocket.
He tapped the side of his head and accessed the part of his neural net which he used to access this world’s internet which was much cruder than his own world but useful nonetheless.
He thought of the address and the Washington city map materialised in his peripheral vision. The woman’s Mother’s home showed up as a pulsating red blip. Stringer smiled.
Excellent, only a few blocks away!