Kowalski studied the map, moving the various objects denoting his forces and the enemy's. Marlene so far hadn't spoken a word, watching from the corner just like she'd been told.
"…My orders are final," Marlene paid no notice as Kowalski picked up the phone to order another division to their death, "Savio, position your troops as instructed or…" Immediately Marlene knew something was wrong. For the past half an hour he'd effortlessly multitasked, now, she noticed his pen faltered on the paper, and the other ringing phone on the opposite side of the desk was ignored, "I see your lieutenant has managed the great feat of hacking the intercom," he placed a hand over the receiver and beckoned Marlene over, "Trace this call." He whispered, "that's impossible. Motion sensors report catastrophic flooding in the bunker," He motioned for Marlene to ignore the order.
"Is that…?"
"I went ahead of my team," Skipper explained, knowing he was just asking for a lecture, as well as the fact Kowalski had probably already come to this conclusion and merely wanted him to admit it, "They'll tell you what happened when they haul you off to Hoboken." The cases were all pretty much closed. Rico and Clemson had been captured, and even if the team didn't make it to the top floor, the Rats would still get there, and even if they didn't, in all probability the place would be so battered that Jones could just walk in. However, despite the fact he liked to appear confident to the point of hot headed in front of his team, there were still questions he didn't know the answers to.
"Do you expect me to rescue you?"
Skipper couldn't tell if Kowalski was being sincere, there was barely any modulation in the question, but to use his own lieutenant's turn of phrase, 'it's a probability too miniscule to include in calculations.'
"No," Skipper scoffed bitterly, "I'm not that naive."
"Everybody demonizes me."
"It's not demonizing if…"
"Hold on a moment," Skipper was interrupted, "You've found his second in command?" Skipper overheard Kowalski ask someone in the room.
"You've got Newton?!" Skipper demanded, careful to use his lieutenant's other alias, but was ignored. He couldn't hear the reply of whoever was in the room, but he could hear Kowalski's next answer.
"Alive but dying, indeed. I don't care for honours; you may brag to your friends that you made the kill. Dispose of the body in the usual manner."
"If you kill one of ours," Skipper growled, "my men will not rest…"
"No, she's famous for playing possum; treat the body with the same caution as if she were alive," Skipper heard a door slam, and he now had his enemy's full attention, "My apologies if I frightened you, Private."
"Listen here," Skipper snapped in direct retaliation to the accusation that he might have been scared, "I've got questions and you're going to answer them."
"I'm disappointed in you, Private," Kowalski changed the subject, "I expected you to last longer than this. It certainly wasn't my training that failed."
"It's Skipper now," Skipper corrected, "Private's my trainee, and I've earned the title."
"It's hard for a father to watch his son grow up," Kowalski reminisced. Then like storm clouds passing overhead his voice displayed more than a small quantity of hate, "and even harder when he betrays him – I had great things planned for you. Regardless, you'll always be my Private."
"Never took you for the sentimental type." Skipper commented.
"So you got your hands on the diary. I had everything, Private," Kowalski replied, once again returning to that calm, which was far more dangerous than the anger he'd just displayed, "and you made me lose it all."
"You took it from everyone else."
"Always the philosopher. And you call me sentimental."
"Stop avoiding the question!" Skipper snapped watching the water line. He didn't expect to be saved, he didn't even expect Kowalski to stop mocking him, but he was going to get those answers, "Why did you kill Manfredi and Johnson?!"
"You have absolutely no evidence that I had anything to do with them."
"Don't play games with me, not now!" Skipper retorted desperately. The water was inches away from the electrical socket, "I need to know!" He still received no reply. The water level rose higher still, and Skipper tensed every muscle he could still feel, not daring to make any move to cause the slightest ripple, so close was the waterline to certain death, "Why did you kill Manfredi?!"
"I didn't."
The slights shut off and Skipper was left in total darkness. Kowalski had switched off the power. A few seconds later the water reached shoulder level, the same level as the electrical socket.
"Electrocution too quick for you?" Skipper muttered as he forced his frozen body to climb up onto the shelves, settling himself down so he lay only a few feet away from the ceiling. Other cases he could rest with being unsolved, but there wasn't a single angle in this one that made any sense. He'd never been good enough compared with Manfredi; it made no sense that Kowalski would kill his favourite.
"You're going to save him, right?" Marlene asked nervously.
"Of course not." Kowalski answered as he reached for yet another ringing telephone which he had neglected in favour of his previous conversation, "Antonio, diverting your unit to get your girlfriend out of the building is out of the question."
"But you could rescue…" Marlene pleaded, "You can't just leave him to…"
"I have to," Kowalski answered coldly, though his indifference seemed forced, even slight overkill.
"I thought you said keeping Will alive was your highest priority, ever since his father…?"
"Miss Kitka is a demolitions expert, I need her here." Kowalski answered the telephone's question; the response to Marlene's was a distracted nod.
At first Marlene thought it was just an outright contradiction, but Kowalski, even when thinking of six things at the same time was too smart for that, "Wait, you've got a higher one?"
"Yes," Kowalski replied, putting down the phone, "Will's continued existence is contradictory to my own, and there is also a 15.9387% chance it is merely a trap."
"But what if it's not a trap?" Marlene pleaded. She felt so helpless. She considered running down there herself in the vain hope she might just be able to reach him in time, but she knew she wouldn't even make it to the door, "He's going to drown, you can't take the risk that it's not…!"
"… Climb up the elevator shaft and flank the Rat commando, then use the captured radios to trick the other enemy units into attacking each other."
"I thought you types believed in family loyalty." Finally, Kowalski graced her with an answer in the gap between the last order and the next ringing phone.
"That is exactly why I have survived and they haven't."
"So much for appealing to your principles, you don't draw the line at anything."
"You would suggest that I allow a spy to continue to operate?" Blowhole countered calmly.
"Even I wouldn't hunt down my own kid." Kowalski answered.
"Then I will probably outlive you."
Kowalski paused, arm hovering above the desk, half way to the ringing phone. He could understand Marlene's position, preventing what needed to be done at some point out of illogical loyalty. He'd known another girl who'd literally stood between the two, being the only subordinate, ignoring Manfredi and Marlene, to defy him consistently.
"Antonio?" Kowalski much to Marlene's anguish picked up the phone. She really thought she'd had him on that one, but it was obvious she'd asked a decade too late for compassion to work, "Get three volunteers for a mission… Tell them it is unlikely they will survive, and… You don't think anyone in their right mind would volunteer? Tell them they'll be working directly with me and that there is a high probability of promotion."
"Oh, so now you're joining the battle?" Marlene asked sceptically, "You're going to put me through everything you went through except I'm not holding the smoking gun? It drove you crazy, y'know?"
"Marlene, I am many things but 'crazy' is not one of them. I have a logical reason behind every action. Savio?" He grabbed another communicator, "Send a detail up to my office to guard Miss Adler. She will be the commanding officer in my absence, understood?"
"Wait a minute, what are you doing?" Marlene questioned following her ex-employer as he opened a panel at the back wall of the office space.
"I'm trusting you to hold the fort," he answered cryptically as he disappeared down the passage, "I don't have time for further explanation, and there are contingencies in place should you defy me and divert troops to rescue Private."
Kowalski was worried. Private had relayed Skipper's orders to him as soon as he'd regained consciousness as well as command, and according to his calculations they should have caught up with Skipper. What had worried him further was when he went to exit the dust covered office they'd emerged into, the door was still locked from the outside with no signs of having been tampered with, despite the fact Skipper was quite partial to kicking down doors. If anyone was aware of Skipper's famous luck, it was him, but somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that Skipper hadn't just rushed in ahead of them and completed the mission as usual. Why did Jones recruit an inexperienced boy to do a man's job?
The office was well guarded, probably by the target's best men, but the team still took them down within seconds. However when they entered the office, there was only one other person aside from themselves present, and not the one they'd expected.
"Where's Skipper and your boss?" Kowalski demanded. The woman looked up from her hands, her eyes red from crying, though she wasn't crying now.
"Skipper's dead," Marlene replied dejectedly, returning her gaze to her hands, "Down there, somewhere called the bunker."
"Are you sure?" Private asked nervously.
"He left him to drown, I tried…"
"I don't have time for this, Arlene. Where's your boss?" Kowalski continued to question. This had to be some kind of trick. It had to be.
"Guess," Marlene replied, adopting a kind of cold impassibility that looked all too familiar, "And it's Marlene."
"Tell me where…!"
"I mean it," She answered, "Anywhere in this building, anywhere in this city… I don't know and I don't care!" Private tried to comfort her despite his own apparent grief, though he was pushed away.
"That'll be all from you," Kowalski interrupted coldly seeing he was just wasting his time. The only answers he got from Arlene were guess or no answer at all. It was all a trick, and when the target realised he wasn't fooled, he'd reveal his hostage, and then he could plan a course of action, "Go out through the emergency tunnel in the office across the hall and turn yourself in as soon as you're outside." Marlene, surprised by the abruptness of the order, complied immediately, "Rico, cover the door."
"'o seem happy with y' command?" Rico accused noting the lack of grief.
"I haven't given up on Skipper yet," Kowalski answered, "I'm not going to have him call us all a bunch of Nancy cats when he finds out we've been captured because we were too busy crying over rumours spread by spies."
"Are you sure, K'walski?" Private asked cautiously.
"100%. I expect him to walk through that door any second."
"Don' move!" Rico ordered from where he was covering the door, but the new entrant ignored the demand. However as soon as Rico saw the unconscious figure the criminal had brought with him, he had a new question, "Wha' you done ta 'ippah?"
"Get Private to a hospital now," Kowalski ordered, handing the unconscious man to Rico, and following his statement with a stream of unintelligible medical termini which the team's field medic's seemed to understand, nodding his approval every few seconds as he inspected the unconscious commander. He motioned for Rico to carry him out via the escape tunnel, and was just about to follow, when he looked back at his counterpart.
"I'll be back for you the minute we…" the team's medic noticed the blood stained hand that was hurriedly thrust into the criminal's pocket, "Are you…?"
"The kid needs a hospital more than me, and you can only take one of us!" Kowalski snapped, "It's just a graze!"
"Ah bet that blood ain' his," Rico muttered suspiciously as they left the room, his superior concurring, "Pro'ably a Depar'ment agent's."
As soon as the door shut, his façade crumbled, and Kowalski grasped the nearby desk for support, clutching the 'graze', warm sticky blood leaking through his fingers. He cautiously pulled back the fabric of his battle ruined blazer, wincing at the sight of the wound. It was worth it though; he didn't want Marlene to go through what he had, and she was right, it had driven him crazy. She was wrong about one thing though: there was a line he wouldn't cross, and that was to kill his own son. It was about time his illogical side took over anyway.
The door opened and he immediately straightened, moving away from the desk. Dizziness hit him like a tidal wave, and when his vision finally cleared, he could see the nervous form of Skipper's Private in the doorway.
"I'm a dangerous criminal, kid," He warned, "I think Private would like it a lot better if you went with the team."
"Well I'm Private," the youngest member of his adversaries stated far more boldly than his data on the kid would allow, "And I think I ought to stay."
"You knew who I meant."
"I asked Jones to tell me stories about you, once," Private recounted, "He said you were a notoriously difficult patient. You called it a high pain tolerance, but I think it's a sign of your insecurity," the kid psychoanalysed, "Am I correct in believing you wanted to be a geletenous life form researcher before the war?" Kowalski turned away from the kid, facing the wall as he coughed. He raised a hand, wiping away the sticky substance on his lips. When he looked down he found his snow white cuff smeared with red, "Are you alright?" the kid asked with hypocritical concern.
"A head cold."
"I asked Jones to tell me about your childhood too," Private continued, "Perhaps it's a psychological defence mechanism from when…" Before Kowalski could protest, Private pulled back the blazer revealing the blood soaked shirt.
"I like to think it's mostly the other guy's." Kowalski answered, attempting some form of wit, "It's just a minor…" he was interrupted as he was hit with another spell of dizziness and he barely saved himself from falling by grabbing the edge of the wall. Immediately Private was easing him down, as much as the action was protested.
"My word…" Private gasped as he pulled back the shreds of shirt revealing the real wound, "It looks like you lost a fight with a tiger."
"Machete." Kowalski corrected. The kid was doing pretty well, considering the fact he'd probably never seen so much blood before. Kowalski had seen more, with greater frequency than he was proud of, though it had never come from him. It was hard to be as brave as he knew one Skipper would want him to be. He was pretty sure the other wouldn't care.
"You're going to make it." Private stated with as much confidence as he could muster. Kowalski's high pain tolerance winced as Private pressed his folded blazer against the wounds in an attempt to stem the bleeding.
"No I'm not," he answered. It was almost funny. As far as the kid was probably told, in the last two months alone, he'd murdered everyone in one of the biggest banks in New York, Manfredi and Johnson, Barry, almost killed just about everybody the kid knew this side of the Atlantic, blackmailed him and he actually seemed to care.
"No, you will!" the boy insisted.
"You can't lie to a doctor about his own chances of survival."
"Don't be such a pessimist," Private scolded, "and don't say you're being a realist, because you always said that and you're not." The boy countered before Kowalski could open his mouth.
"…"
"I want you to keep talking, it will make sure you stay conscious, and you're going to refrain from any negative comments..."
"I want you to promise me something in case I don't make it," Kowalski interrupted, trying his best to keep focused like the kid had said.
"No negative comments!"
"Just in case. I am never caught without a contingency plan."
"Pri'ate!" Rico exclaimed as he burst into the room. As soon as he'd realised the youngest member of their team was gone, he known exactly where he was. That kid could be a too naive for his own good at times. Rico watched the two figures on the far side of the room from the doorway, feeling somehow that he was a party to something he shouldn't be.
"I…" the boy stuttered. His blue eyes glistened with the beginning of tears; the pain was all too apparent in his eyes, "I don't know…"
"Swear it." Kowalski ordered.
"Alright," Private finally replied, "I guess this will be another one for Mr Tux,"
As he rose his eyes asked the question of whether he would reveal the snippet of conversation to their overly spy conscious leader. Rico shook his head, before telling Private to join the others outside, and that he would keep an eye on the prisoner.
Probably my most depressing chapter yet, which is not great considering it's not the happiest story, but I couldn't exactly think of anything else to do with a character who can escape anything. This should be the chapter before last, or the chapter before that (depending on whether I add an epilogue).