Frank parked his car a block away from the warehouse. He knew the place; another classified case took place close by about two years ago. The building was two storages high, with wooden floors and a miserable-looking staircase.
Frank dropped his cop air. There was no point. Neil was a Yale bachelor -same year as himself and Rene - and a Harvard Law School graduate.
He stopped at the doorway and stretched out his arms. "Neil!" He yelled, "Come out! I know you can see me and I am not holding a weapon."
"Of course you are not, Donovan." Neil appeared like a ghost, pale, wearing a dark blue coat and pointing a gun at Frank's chest. "You are not that foolish."
Frank dropped his arms. "How many men do you have, Neil? And tell me the truth."
"Sharp boy!" Neil exclaimed. "That makes the game fun."
"I don't want to repeat my question."
"No? I've got 7. And you have none."
Neil was right. Frank didn't let his team come despite the team's desire and worries. He knew that Neil would have the necessary precautions. Besides, this was not an official case given by his superiors. He would not let his team get too involved.
"So where is Iris, your daughter?" Frank asked calmly as if they were one on one.
"You know very well she's not my daughter." Neil almost hissed. "But the little girl is on the second floor. You can't get through to her."
"Let her go. I'll stay."
Neil narrowed his eyes dangerously. "What makes you think I will consent, Frank Donovan? We are not on equal grounds for negotiations."
"We are not?" Frank remained impassive.
"You're bluffing." Neil said confidently. "I'm a lawyer, Frank. I know the tricks."
"Then I am bluffing. It's your judgment, after all." Frank held his ground.
Neil narrowed his eyes again. His long, thin fingers were rubbing his palm. Who's nervous now?
"You are bluffing." Neil repeated, "It will not work, Donovan. It will not work!" He directed his gun to the left and fired.
Frank tensed, but did not move an inch. The bullet brushed by his arm, leaving a small trace of blood.
Neil smiled. "I knew it. You are bluffing."
"Whatever you wish, Neil." Frank said. Was there a teasing tone beneath his voice? The air grew more and more suspenseful. Neil didn't like the change.
He stared into Donovan's eyes, trying to detect the truth. Donovan's eyes were too bright; it hurt.
Frank could see the gun shake as the man's confidence gave way. He was winning the staring contest. As for how he would get out… well!
And at this moment, another man walked down. He was tall and skinny, wearing a pair of sunglasses that covered most of his face. Stretching to his neck was a visible scar. Hideous.
The man walked down in a slow step that cautioned Frank. Instincts told him that the man was not to be underestimated.
"He's bluffing, Amis. Get a grip on yourself. Go upstairs and take care of that little bastard child. You never know, that dark-skinned child may be his." The man nodded toward Frank's direction.
Neil turned sharply around. "You are not mixing with this business, partner."
The man laughed loudly. "Sure, man. It's just I wouldn't want to see you so cheated. Didn't your woman have a crush on him ever since, what, nine years ago? Ten years ago? More than ten years ago?"
"Shut up." Neil yelled.
"Sure, man, sure." The man laughed again and continued, "She doesn't love you, man. Wake up! Or, rather, look at this man before you. Look at him!" He almost, in a way, forced Neil to look at Frank. "He's as young as you are; he was the president in college; he was the captain; he was top of the class. Sure he didn't go to Harvard like you did, but he has a career in the Department of Justice, doesn't he? Head of the unit for all you know. Man, wake up! I hate to see you so deceived. Your wife, beautiful, eh? But is she faithful? Did she ever love you? I wouldn't know. But you would, right? Sure. So wake the hell up!"
As the man went on in his speech, Frank did a careful analysis of him. The man was obviously educated, street-trained, and very persuasive. And the man came for him, specifically, but without telling Neil what or why. Frank recalled his cases that might suggest who this man was but the list went way too long. If the man came for revenge, Frank knew two things: 1) he's in big trouble; 2) he'd better have patience and endurance.
Neil did not answer. His face was cold and pale, his gun shaking visibly.
The man took the gun from him and walked up to Frank.
"Do you know me, Agent Donovan?" He smiled. A crooked smile.
If Frank wished for a slow death rather than a quick one, he had better exasperate the man. Frank looked straight into the man's face, not disguising the disgust and contempt. "Of course I know you," he said, after some observation, "you are an idiot."
The man grinned with clenched teeth. The scar became horribly twisted. "Very funny, Agent Donovan." He held the gun against Frank's chest.
"Neil," Frank called out, ignoring the man standing in his face, "Let the girl go. I swear on my honor that I have nothing to do with Rene. She is your daughter; you don't want to kill your own flesh and blood."
"My flesh and blood?" Neil grinned, walking up. "I have blood type AB. Rene has type A, so you tell me, Donovan, how come 'my' child has blood type O? According to genetics, it's impossible."
Frank sighed secretly to himself. He knew it was impossible even from his high school biology course. O comes from two recessive alleles. AB type had no recessive allele. A DNA test was not even needed to prove that Iris and Neil were not related.
"You, on the other hand," Neil continued, "have O type blood. Plenty of O alleles to pass down, eh? The ONLY type you could pass down."
"I already swore that I have nothing to do with Rene." Frank repeated.
Neil looked at him. Then suddenly he drew a tiny blade out of his pocket and stabbed Frank on the chest. After burying it into the body, he took off his hand, leaving the blade in.
The other man took the gun off Frank's chest, watching with a frown. "Damn it, man, I don't want a dead Donovan!"
"I don't want him alive!" Neil shouted, facing the man, who in one step grabbed his collar and yelled into his ears, "I need him alive! He's very useful to me. Don't you dare forget that if you are going any further with this."
Frank felt a tearing pain as the knife ruptured his lung. His right hand reached for the handle as he struggled to remain standing. He gasped for air but coughed blood instead. Blood tasted warm and salty in his throat, a nasty flavor that was familiar to him. His head was reeling, but it caught the last part of the sentence: "going any further with this." How much further could Neil go? Perhaps he was thinking of abducting Rene as well? A flood of pain went sweeping through his head. He could not see the two men clearly, but he knew that they were distracted from him. Best opportunity to draw your gun so far, Frank! He released the hold on handle and with a great effort, took out his gun.
He leaned heavily on the door and pointed the gun at Neil.
"Let the girl leave, Neil." He said with a weak but deep voice - the best he could summon with limited oxygen take-in.
Both man turned to face him. The man grinned at Neil, "Quite an opponent. A stoic, too."
Neil sneered, "Brutus's cousin." Turning to Frank, "But you know the most about Brutus don't you? Wrote thirty pages on Shakespeare's heroic image paper and got an A-. The entire class was jealous. Put the gun down, Donovan. You can scarcely keep it up. You can't pull the trigger."
Frank maintained his position and smiled slightly, "Try me." He felt the friction going away as cold sweat filled his palm. But he held on. Thanks goodness for the door to lean on.
The other man grinned at Frank. "It wouldn't work, you know, because, look -"
Frank's head screamed "no" as an explosion sounded off. He and Neil both fell to the ground. Difference was: he was still alive; Neil was dead.
"Troublesome boy anyways. Way too emotional" The man said, shaking his head with a grin. Then, turning to Frank, he snapped his fingers. "Couple of you move this guy upstairs!"
Frank dropped his cop air. There was no point. Neil was a Yale bachelor -same year as himself and Rene - and a Harvard Law School graduate.
He stopped at the doorway and stretched out his arms. "Neil!" He yelled, "Come out! I know you can see me and I am not holding a weapon."
"Of course you are not, Donovan." Neil appeared like a ghost, pale, wearing a dark blue coat and pointing a gun at Frank's chest. "You are not that foolish."
Frank dropped his arms. "How many men do you have, Neil? And tell me the truth."
"Sharp boy!" Neil exclaimed. "That makes the game fun."
"I don't want to repeat my question."
"No? I've got 7. And you have none."
Neil was right. Frank didn't let his team come despite the team's desire and worries. He knew that Neil would have the necessary precautions. Besides, this was not an official case given by his superiors. He would not let his team get too involved.
"So where is Iris, your daughter?" Frank asked calmly as if they were one on one.
"You know very well she's not my daughter." Neil almost hissed. "But the little girl is on the second floor. You can't get through to her."
"Let her go. I'll stay."
Neil narrowed his eyes dangerously. "What makes you think I will consent, Frank Donovan? We are not on equal grounds for negotiations."
"We are not?" Frank remained impassive.
"You're bluffing." Neil said confidently. "I'm a lawyer, Frank. I know the tricks."
"Then I am bluffing. It's your judgment, after all." Frank held his ground.
Neil narrowed his eyes again. His long, thin fingers were rubbing his palm. Who's nervous now?
"You are bluffing." Neil repeated, "It will not work, Donovan. It will not work!" He directed his gun to the left and fired.
Frank tensed, but did not move an inch. The bullet brushed by his arm, leaving a small trace of blood.
Neil smiled. "I knew it. You are bluffing."
"Whatever you wish, Neil." Frank said. Was there a teasing tone beneath his voice? The air grew more and more suspenseful. Neil didn't like the change.
He stared into Donovan's eyes, trying to detect the truth. Donovan's eyes were too bright; it hurt.
Frank could see the gun shake as the man's confidence gave way. He was winning the staring contest. As for how he would get out… well!
And at this moment, another man walked down. He was tall and skinny, wearing a pair of sunglasses that covered most of his face. Stretching to his neck was a visible scar. Hideous.
The man walked down in a slow step that cautioned Frank. Instincts told him that the man was not to be underestimated.
"He's bluffing, Amis. Get a grip on yourself. Go upstairs and take care of that little bastard child. You never know, that dark-skinned child may be his." The man nodded toward Frank's direction.
Neil turned sharply around. "You are not mixing with this business, partner."
The man laughed loudly. "Sure, man. It's just I wouldn't want to see you so cheated. Didn't your woman have a crush on him ever since, what, nine years ago? Ten years ago? More than ten years ago?"
"Shut up." Neil yelled.
"Sure, man, sure." The man laughed again and continued, "She doesn't love you, man. Wake up! Or, rather, look at this man before you. Look at him!" He almost, in a way, forced Neil to look at Frank. "He's as young as you are; he was the president in college; he was the captain; he was top of the class. Sure he didn't go to Harvard like you did, but he has a career in the Department of Justice, doesn't he? Head of the unit for all you know. Man, wake up! I hate to see you so deceived. Your wife, beautiful, eh? But is she faithful? Did she ever love you? I wouldn't know. But you would, right? Sure. So wake the hell up!"
As the man went on in his speech, Frank did a careful analysis of him. The man was obviously educated, street-trained, and very persuasive. And the man came for him, specifically, but without telling Neil what or why. Frank recalled his cases that might suggest who this man was but the list went way too long. If the man came for revenge, Frank knew two things: 1) he's in big trouble; 2) he'd better have patience and endurance.
Neil did not answer. His face was cold and pale, his gun shaking visibly.
The man took the gun from him and walked up to Frank.
"Do you know me, Agent Donovan?" He smiled. A crooked smile.
If Frank wished for a slow death rather than a quick one, he had better exasperate the man. Frank looked straight into the man's face, not disguising the disgust and contempt. "Of course I know you," he said, after some observation, "you are an idiot."
The man grinned with clenched teeth. The scar became horribly twisted. "Very funny, Agent Donovan." He held the gun against Frank's chest.
"Neil," Frank called out, ignoring the man standing in his face, "Let the girl go. I swear on my honor that I have nothing to do with Rene. She is your daughter; you don't want to kill your own flesh and blood."
"My flesh and blood?" Neil grinned, walking up. "I have blood type AB. Rene has type A, so you tell me, Donovan, how come 'my' child has blood type O? According to genetics, it's impossible."
Frank sighed secretly to himself. He knew it was impossible even from his high school biology course. O comes from two recessive alleles. AB type had no recessive allele. A DNA test was not even needed to prove that Iris and Neil were not related.
"You, on the other hand," Neil continued, "have O type blood. Plenty of O alleles to pass down, eh? The ONLY type you could pass down."
"I already swore that I have nothing to do with Rene." Frank repeated.
Neil looked at him. Then suddenly he drew a tiny blade out of his pocket and stabbed Frank on the chest. After burying it into the body, he took off his hand, leaving the blade in.
The other man took the gun off Frank's chest, watching with a frown. "Damn it, man, I don't want a dead Donovan!"
"I don't want him alive!" Neil shouted, facing the man, who in one step grabbed his collar and yelled into his ears, "I need him alive! He's very useful to me. Don't you dare forget that if you are going any further with this."
Frank felt a tearing pain as the knife ruptured his lung. His right hand reached for the handle as he struggled to remain standing. He gasped for air but coughed blood instead. Blood tasted warm and salty in his throat, a nasty flavor that was familiar to him. His head was reeling, but it caught the last part of the sentence: "going any further with this." How much further could Neil go? Perhaps he was thinking of abducting Rene as well? A flood of pain went sweeping through his head. He could not see the two men clearly, but he knew that they were distracted from him. Best opportunity to draw your gun so far, Frank! He released the hold on handle and with a great effort, took out his gun.
He leaned heavily on the door and pointed the gun at Neil.
"Let the girl leave, Neil." He said with a weak but deep voice - the best he could summon with limited oxygen take-in.
Both man turned to face him. The man grinned at Neil, "Quite an opponent. A stoic, too."
Neil sneered, "Brutus's cousin." Turning to Frank, "But you know the most about Brutus don't you? Wrote thirty pages on Shakespeare's heroic image paper and got an A-. The entire class was jealous. Put the gun down, Donovan. You can scarcely keep it up. You can't pull the trigger."
Frank maintained his position and smiled slightly, "Try me." He felt the friction going away as cold sweat filled his palm. But he held on. Thanks goodness for the door to lean on.
The other man grinned at Frank. "It wouldn't work, you know, because, look -"
Frank's head screamed "no" as an explosion sounded off. He and Neil both fell to the ground. Difference was: he was still alive; Neil was dead.
"Troublesome boy anyways. Way too emotional" The man said, shaking his head with a grin. Then, turning to Frank, he snapped his fingers. "Couple of you move this guy upstairs!"