Just when you thought things were looking up for everyone..here is chapter
20. I couldn't decide what to call this chapter. I hate that.
*-*-*-*-* Matthews was taken and booked for conspiracy to commit murder. She sat in a cell in the 22nd precinct staring at the dull graffiti cover walls; catatonic. She hadn't moved or spoken since she was brought in. In her mind she played the events over, replaying Anthony throwing the sword which killed her sister, Vivian. Occasionally her left eye would tick usually as she saw in her mind's eye the sword hitting its mark.
"Well here she is Agent Clarke, I suppose you will be coming for the other one later," asked the police officer as he accompanied the FBI agent to Matthews' cell. The large agent turned, the profile of his once broken nose highlighting his face.
"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours to pick up Mr. Daniels and bring him into federal custody. If I could have a minute alone with Ms. Matthews before, I take her away," he said eyeing the police officer.
The officer agreed and left the two alone. There was something about Agent Clarke that made him anxious. He supposed it was the man's large stature. He wouldn't worry about it. At least he was going to take the rogue agents away.
"So, Gloria," said Clarke aka the Vulture, looking at the woman in the cell, "you got yourself caught. Who would have guessed? I told you the idea was crap from the beginning but would you listen? You should have just had me kill Getty but no, you had the bright idea to go through the Chief and get two unknowns and wouldn't you know it, they both turn on you. The one killed your sister even." He chuckled deeply.
At the mention of Vivian, she turned her head slightly and looked at him. "Well it looks like you are coming around. Good. It will make it easier." Clarke went and rang for the guard. The heavy metal door swung open. "I am ready to take Agent Matthews now."
The guard held out a clipboard to the FBI agent. "The officer handling this had to take a call but said if you just sign here and here," he pointed to two fields on the form, "you can take her. It's a bad thing when an FBI agent goes bad."
"Yeah," said Clarke handing the pen back to the man, "not much's worse." The guard unlocked the cell and slid the door open. "Come on Gloria, its time to go." Matthews sat there not moving. "You know you don't want to sit here anymore, come on," said Clarke in a kinder tone than he used moments before. She turned her head and looked at him, then stood taking her blazer with her and exited the cell. "Uh-I don't think so, hands out." He showed her the handcuffs by dangling them off one finger. She stuck out her wrists and he clapped the bracelets shut.
"It strange to see an FBI agent here alone," said the guard leading them to the back exit so they could avoid the press out front, all trying to cover the lead story of Donald Getty and his daughter.
Clarke hadn't expected that observation, "Yeah well, my partner had something else to do." Apparently happy with the large agent's response the guard told him to have a nice day and watched as he put Gloria into the back seat of his sedan.
As they started down the road, Matthews spoke, "I want him. I want to kill that bastard."
"I know and figured as much, babe. I've had my eye on him." Gloria cocked her head to one side and watched him as he spoke to her. "He flew to LAX right after he left the WTC." Clarke pulled over and stopped the car. "Hold your hands out." Gloria did as she was told and he removed the cuffs. "Better," he asked and kissed her on the cheek.
"Yes."
"As I was saying," he restarted the car and began driving again, "he is visiting some old codger just north of LA. The name I found was Aleksandrov. Guess he thinks it's a good place to lay low."
"He needs to pay," she said venomously. "I want him dead."
"Not a problem. He has a thing for Getty's daughter if how he acted at the WTC was any indication. He will be back, she's his weakness. You'll get your revenge."
Gloria settled back into the backseat and looked at the lake speeding by her window, "I don't know if I can wait that long."
Just then Clarke's cell-phone rang. He answered it. "Clarke. Really? Good.Fine.Wonderful." Then he hung up. "Well Gloria, you might not have to wait that long."
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony looked at the old man and smiled. "Are you sure this will work," he wrote.
Dimitri motioned to the microscope, "Take a look." Anthony hesitated; he didn't know anything about viruses. The old man smiled, he had always been able to read his friend, it was one reason they had gotten along so well,
"Its okay you don't need to know what you are looking at, you will understand as you watch." Dimitri took a clean slide and placed a few drops of the suspension from the dart on it. He slid the slide under the objective lens. With a push of a button the image appeared on his monitor, "These are the virus. This," he said taking an eyedropper and removing some suspension from a test tube, "is the cure. Watch," he said as he dropped the suspension from the test tube onto the slide and hit the button for the microscope.
Anthony watched in amazement as each of the viruses was engulfed by the contents that were taken from the test tube. "See? It seems to work. If I had more time I could make a whole gallon of it." He placed a cork in the test tube. "Come have lunch and then we will take this to your girlfriend."
Cocking an eyebrow he looked at his friend. "Yes, I am coming. I want to meet the girl I did this for. If you care about her she must be special. Or was it me calling her your girlfriend you object to, Anton?"
He was about to answer Dimitri when he heard a noise up stairs. It was faint but it was there. Anthony held out his hand and motioned for the old man to be quiet. "What is wrong?"
Anthony wrote, "I don't know. I think someone is upstairs."
The footsteps came closer and Anthony could make out voices behind the door at the top of the stairs. "Think he is down there," the first one asked.
"Better check. So far no one up here," said the second. From the sounds on the creaky floor above Anthony estimated there were four of them.
He handed Dimitri a note that said, "A back exit?" Dimitri shook his head in the negative. "Stay behind me," he wrote and handed the note to the old man just as the door was broken down.
Anthony withdrew his sword as the four men tramped down the stairs. "Well well, the mute guy and an old man,. Don't want nutin' to do with you old fart, let us get your friend and we'll leave ya in peace," said a large bald man who voice Anthony recognized as the first one who had spoken before. The Thin Man's eyes grew cold. He attacked. He managed to catch the first two off guard running them through with his sword; their lifeless bodies falling to the cement floor. The other two were good. One kicked his hand and the sword went flying. Dimitri caught it as it flew through the air.
"I may be old but I can still fight," the Russian said to his attackers. He started fending off a young man who had his black hair shaved into a crew cut. Anthony kicked and fought with the fourth. Dimitri lunged at his young attacker but the boy was fast. As he pulled back to attack again the boy was quicker. Without an ounce of hesitation he pulled out a gun and shot him. A look of surprise crossed the old man's face and he clasped his free hand across his stomach. He dropped to his knees and groaned the sword still in his other hand.
Anthony turned made a sweeping kick with his leg hitting the boy right below the knees It threw the young attacker off balance. He stumbled and fell impaling himself on the sword still grasped by the Russian. The last turned and ran back up the stairs. Anthony was about to follow when he heard Dimitri call his name, "Anton."
Anthony went back and knelt next to the old man. "My boy," the old man whispered. "Take the cure, love the girl well, it is my gift to the two of you." Anthony swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat. "Promise me something," said Dimitri. The assassin nodded. "Good. You will quit the business." Anthony shook his head. "You said you would promise. You quit the business. No more killing, and be happy with the girl."
The Thin Man scratched out another note, "If she will have me."
"Of course she will have you Anton. I will watch over you. I will watch." With that Dimitri closed his eyes. Anthony swallowed hard. He had never realized how much the old Russian meant to him until it was too late. He would make sure he had a proper funeral, when he got back. Right now he wanted to save someone who might still be able to be saved. He grabbed the test tube and placed it in his pocket where he had carried the dart earlier. He then took the old orange and yellow afghan off the sofa in the corner of the lab, covered his friend with it and said a small prayer over his lifeless body.
Climbing the stairs slowly, Anthony looked at the pictures on the wall. There was one of him and Dimitri right after he had been taken in by the old man. It was small only five by seven; he took it out of the frame and placed it in his pocket and went to the second floor. He went to second room on the right; the once white paint flaking off the door on to the floor of the hallway. Looking inside he noticed the room was the same way he had left it when he struck out on his own many years before.
He opened the closet and inside hung several of his old suits. They smelled of mothballs and cedar but if they fit that is what counted most. He slowly peeled off the tuxedo jacket. He hadn't realized that he had injured his shoulder in the fight in the basement but he saw the blood seeping through the white dress shirt he wore. The wound from the roof top ached as well. He removed the rest of his clothes and opened the door to the left of the closet which led to a small bathroom that had a tiny sink, a toilet and a shower. He turned the water on and watched as the steam fogged the glass door.
The shower helped take away the ache in his shoulder which he patched up with a bandage. He then got dressed in one of the suits from the closet, making sure to take the test tube and picture with him. He went back down the stairs and opened the front door. He took one last look at the house that had been more a home to him than the orphanage and shut the door. He climbed into his black Z4 and headed for the airport never looking back.
*-*-*-*-* Matthews was taken and booked for conspiracy to commit murder. She sat in a cell in the 22nd precinct staring at the dull graffiti cover walls; catatonic. She hadn't moved or spoken since she was brought in. In her mind she played the events over, replaying Anthony throwing the sword which killed her sister, Vivian. Occasionally her left eye would tick usually as she saw in her mind's eye the sword hitting its mark.
"Well here she is Agent Clarke, I suppose you will be coming for the other one later," asked the police officer as he accompanied the FBI agent to Matthews' cell. The large agent turned, the profile of his once broken nose highlighting his face.
"Yes, I'll be back in a few hours to pick up Mr. Daniels and bring him into federal custody. If I could have a minute alone with Ms. Matthews before, I take her away," he said eyeing the police officer.
The officer agreed and left the two alone. There was something about Agent Clarke that made him anxious. He supposed it was the man's large stature. He wouldn't worry about it. At least he was going to take the rogue agents away.
"So, Gloria," said Clarke aka the Vulture, looking at the woman in the cell, "you got yourself caught. Who would have guessed? I told you the idea was crap from the beginning but would you listen? You should have just had me kill Getty but no, you had the bright idea to go through the Chief and get two unknowns and wouldn't you know it, they both turn on you. The one killed your sister even." He chuckled deeply.
At the mention of Vivian, she turned her head slightly and looked at him. "Well it looks like you are coming around. Good. It will make it easier." Clarke went and rang for the guard. The heavy metal door swung open. "I am ready to take Agent Matthews now."
The guard held out a clipboard to the FBI agent. "The officer handling this had to take a call but said if you just sign here and here," he pointed to two fields on the form, "you can take her. It's a bad thing when an FBI agent goes bad."
"Yeah," said Clarke handing the pen back to the man, "not much's worse." The guard unlocked the cell and slid the door open. "Come on Gloria, its time to go." Matthews sat there not moving. "You know you don't want to sit here anymore, come on," said Clarke in a kinder tone than he used moments before. She turned her head and looked at him, then stood taking her blazer with her and exited the cell. "Uh-I don't think so, hands out." He showed her the handcuffs by dangling them off one finger. She stuck out her wrists and he clapped the bracelets shut.
"It strange to see an FBI agent here alone," said the guard leading them to the back exit so they could avoid the press out front, all trying to cover the lead story of Donald Getty and his daughter.
Clarke hadn't expected that observation, "Yeah well, my partner had something else to do." Apparently happy with the large agent's response the guard told him to have a nice day and watched as he put Gloria into the back seat of his sedan.
As they started down the road, Matthews spoke, "I want him. I want to kill that bastard."
"I know and figured as much, babe. I've had my eye on him." Gloria cocked her head to one side and watched him as he spoke to her. "He flew to LAX right after he left the WTC." Clarke pulled over and stopped the car. "Hold your hands out." Gloria did as she was told and he removed the cuffs. "Better," he asked and kissed her on the cheek.
"Yes."
"As I was saying," he restarted the car and began driving again, "he is visiting some old codger just north of LA. The name I found was Aleksandrov. Guess he thinks it's a good place to lay low."
"He needs to pay," she said venomously. "I want him dead."
"Not a problem. He has a thing for Getty's daughter if how he acted at the WTC was any indication. He will be back, she's his weakness. You'll get your revenge."
Gloria settled back into the backseat and looked at the lake speeding by her window, "I don't know if I can wait that long."
Just then Clarke's cell-phone rang. He answered it. "Clarke. Really? Good.Fine.Wonderful." Then he hung up. "Well Gloria, you might not have to wait that long."
*-*-*-*-*
Anthony looked at the old man and smiled. "Are you sure this will work," he wrote.
Dimitri motioned to the microscope, "Take a look." Anthony hesitated; he didn't know anything about viruses. The old man smiled, he had always been able to read his friend, it was one reason they had gotten along so well,
"Its okay you don't need to know what you are looking at, you will understand as you watch." Dimitri took a clean slide and placed a few drops of the suspension from the dart on it. He slid the slide under the objective lens. With a push of a button the image appeared on his monitor, "These are the virus. This," he said taking an eyedropper and removing some suspension from a test tube, "is the cure. Watch," he said as he dropped the suspension from the test tube onto the slide and hit the button for the microscope.
Anthony watched in amazement as each of the viruses was engulfed by the contents that were taken from the test tube. "See? It seems to work. If I had more time I could make a whole gallon of it." He placed a cork in the test tube. "Come have lunch and then we will take this to your girlfriend."
Cocking an eyebrow he looked at his friend. "Yes, I am coming. I want to meet the girl I did this for. If you care about her she must be special. Or was it me calling her your girlfriend you object to, Anton?"
He was about to answer Dimitri when he heard a noise up stairs. It was faint but it was there. Anthony held out his hand and motioned for the old man to be quiet. "What is wrong?"
Anthony wrote, "I don't know. I think someone is upstairs."
The footsteps came closer and Anthony could make out voices behind the door at the top of the stairs. "Think he is down there," the first one asked.
"Better check. So far no one up here," said the second. From the sounds on the creaky floor above Anthony estimated there were four of them.
He handed Dimitri a note that said, "A back exit?" Dimitri shook his head in the negative. "Stay behind me," he wrote and handed the note to the old man just as the door was broken down.
Anthony withdrew his sword as the four men tramped down the stairs. "Well well, the mute guy and an old man,. Don't want nutin' to do with you old fart, let us get your friend and we'll leave ya in peace," said a large bald man who voice Anthony recognized as the first one who had spoken before. The Thin Man's eyes grew cold. He attacked. He managed to catch the first two off guard running them through with his sword; their lifeless bodies falling to the cement floor. The other two were good. One kicked his hand and the sword went flying. Dimitri caught it as it flew through the air.
"I may be old but I can still fight," the Russian said to his attackers. He started fending off a young man who had his black hair shaved into a crew cut. Anthony kicked and fought with the fourth. Dimitri lunged at his young attacker but the boy was fast. As he pulled back to attack again the boy was quicker. Without an ounce of hesitation he pulled out a gun and shot him. A look of surprise crossed the old man's face and he clasped his free hand across his stomach. He dropped to his knees and groaned the sword still in his other hand.
Anthony turned made a sweeping kick with his leg hitting the boy right below the knees It threw the young attacker off balance. He stumbled and fell impaling himself on the sword still grasped by the Russian. The last turned and ran back up the stairs. Anthony was about to follow when he heard Dimitri call his name, "Anton."
Anthony went back and knelt next to the old man. "My boy," the old man whispered. "Take the cure, love the girl well, it is my gift to the two of you." Anthony swallowed back the lump that was forming in his throat. "Promise me something," said Dimitri. The assassin nodded. "Good. You will quit the business." Anthony shook his head. "You said you would promise. You quit the business. No more killing, and be happy with the girl."
The Thin Man scratched out another note, "If she will have me."
"Of course she will have you Anton. I will watch over you. I will watch." With that Dimitri closed his eyes. Anthony swallowed hard. He had never realized how much the old Russian meant to him until it was too late. He would make sure he had a proper funeral, when he got back. Right now he wanted to save someone who might still be able to be saved. He grabbed the test tube and placed it in his pocket where he had carried the dart earlier. He then took the old orange and yellow afghan off the sofa in the corner of the lab, covered his friend with it and said a small prayer over his lifeless body.
Climbing the stairs slowly, Anthony looked at the pictures on the wall. There was one of him and Dimitri right after he had been taken in by the old man. It was small only five by seven; he took it out of the frame and placed it in his pocket and went to the second floor. He went to second room on the right; the once white paint flaking off the door on to the floor of the hallway. Looking inside he noticed the room was the same way he had left it when he struck out on his own many years before.
He opened the closet and inside hung several of his old suits. They smelled of mothballs and cedar but if they fit that is what counted most. He slowly peeled off the tuxedo jacket. He hadn't realized that he had injured his shoulder in the fight in the basement but he saw the blood seeping through the white dress shirt he wore. The wound from the roof top ached as well. He removed the rest of his clothes and opened the door to the left of the closet which led to a small bathroom that had a tiny sink, a toilet and a shower. He turned the water on and watched as the steam fogged the glass door.
The shower helped take away the ache in his shoulder which he patched up with a bandage. He then got dressed in one of the suits from the closet, making sure to take the test tube and picture with him. He went back down the stairs and opened the front door. He took one last look at the house that had been more a home to him than the orphanage and shut the door. He climbed into his black Z4 and headed for the airport never looking back.