Chapter 13
Dorian ended his call with Detective Paul and stared at Captain Maldonado who had finished talking to John and was already on the phone to the Commissioner to update him. She spoke with her usual strong control and determination but the way that she was pacing gave away her nervousness. Dorian could tell she was mulling over a decision and he could guess what it was.
When she hung up, she looked at Dorian guiltily. "I want to be here for John but…"
"But you have to go and oversee the raids." Dorian finished for her. "John would want you to make sure this was done right."
She nodded in agreement. "Will you stay here and keep me updated?"
"Of course Captain." Dorian smiled, thinking it funny how it was just over a year ago that he would have been told, not asked to do something, his feelings on the subject dismissed as being unimportant. He watched the tiny woman hurry off to her car, and then took up a post outside the command tent, staring at the prison as though he could will John to be okay just by his presence.
He knew he was decidedly unwelcome in the command tent and so was determined to stay out of their way. He'd been tolerated so far by the SWAT team because of the Captain, but now that she had gone everyone was glancing at him with a look of distaste, even the MXs, although of course they were unable to process feelings so that was probably a product of Dorian's imagination.
Word had gotten round amongst the officers that were stationed outside the prison that other teams were being called in for something big, and they were speculating as to what it could be. It was leaving most of them grumbling, they'd been sitting and waiting for a development at the prison that they could use for over a day now and they were bored and frustrated. The general consensus was that they'd all rather be working on whatever the other teams were about to do.
Dorian of course, kept quiet about his insider information, as much as he had wanted to be involved in the take down of the human trafficking ring there was nothing on earth that was going to move him from this prison until he knew John was safe. He'd been able to overhear the conversation between his partner and their Captain and he could tell something was seriously wrong. A quick analysis of the background noise had told him there was a fire and the inflections in John's voice had told him he was in pain. He'd kept these observations to himself. He knew that Maldonado would also have noticed something was wrong, but to tell her so bluntly of the dangers that John currently faced while she was unable to do anything to help him would not have been productive. There was a part of him that wanted the woman to be here with him now, but he knew that she wouldn't have abandoned John unless she had no other choice.
The anxiety was turning his mood dark, churning over and over in his mind all the horrible things that could be happening, when suddenly he saw the lights come on at the prison entrance. Dorian's face broke into a grin and he dashed into the command tent. Others had seen it too and suddenly the small tent was a hive of activity, as extra teams were called in and tactical plans were discussed. Dorian approached the 'on site' commander just as he finished a phone call. "Sir," he said, determined not to be dismissed, "I want to be part of the entry team."
The commander, a silver haired stern looking man, gave him a considered look, but then nodded. "You got it DRN, but you follow orders from me, you got that?"
Dorian nodded, relief flooding his synthetic soul. "Of course Sir. Thank you."
And then it got frustrating. Dorian stayed out of their way as they tried to organise their troops. The prison had almost a thousand inmates, and as a result they needed a few large teams of MXs to enter. It took a while to get more troops in, Dorian could overhear an argument that the commander was having on the phone about the need for more resources. It appeared there was a tug of war going on between the commanders at the prison and those arranging the human trafficking raids to secure as many of their limited numbers as possible.
Adam was crying, and John couldn't blame him. Vincent and his crew had been steadily beating him until he was unrecognisable. It had infuriated Guerrero, who even now was acting like the boy's big brother. He'd flown into a rage, forced himself to his feet despite the men holding him down and had rushed Adam's attackers in a sort of berserker rage. He had thrown one of them over the railings before he had been subdued by a knife cruelly slashed across the tendons at the back of his knee. It had left the man panting on the floor, blood pouring from the wound, and Adam's beating had been intensified as a result.
Once again, John was weighing up the benefits of staying out of this. He knew he had to keep his head down and wait it out until rescue came, and he was sure that they would now that they could gain access to the building. But the two men before him had helped him with his mission when they didn't have to, and for that he owed them something. There was no way he had the strength left to fight, but he could be the distraction.
"Hope you're enjoying this." He glared at Vincent who was stood over Adam and quietly rewrapping his hand for the next punch. "Because since the lights are back on, you know it's only a matter of time before SWAT busts through the door."
Vincent just studied at him, mildly amused.
"I destroyed your little gadget. You must be pissed, right? The reign of Vincent the Terrible, finally at its end. I wonder how long you get in solitary for smuggling a device in to start a riot."
Vincent shrugged. "All good things must come to an end. Fun while it lasted though. You know? Your first day in here, you nearly killed me. But it's been highly enjoyable getting to retaliate."
John tried to squirm away from the man as he approached, but was held fast by two enormous goons. Vincent reached into his pocket and drew out a syringe. He casually flicked the air bubble out of it and then unceremoniously jammed the needle into his neck. John gasped at the pain and the feeling of the cold liquid run through his veins. He could feel the effects almost instantly, making him light headed and nauseous. It dulled the pain in his hand and back, but at the same time made the room spin dangerously fast, and then when Vincent threw a punch, the pain exploded just the same. His head lolled to the side as he struggled to stay alert and upright.
John spat blood on the floor and grinned through split lips, trying really hard to seem unaffected, like a drunk trying to convince someone they were sober.
"Pretty expensive bit of kit though." John commented, once he'd got his breathing under control. His speech was slurring, but he was kind of proud of himself for getting any words out at all.
Vincent shrugged again. "Wasn't mine. Came with the cases of booze, from 'a friend', haven't got a fucking clue who sent it."
John glanced over at the crowd, Belton was stood there listening. John watched his face fall as he realised that he'd been used to smuggle the device in. John thought it would have been poetic irony if the guard had been killed in a riot he'd unwittingly caused.
It then dawned on him, the implications of that statement. "They were getting you to test it." John muttered, mostly to himself. "Shit! Something big is being planned." He had to tell the Captain, he thought to himself. His vision was starting to fade, and he suddenly panicked that when he woke up he wouldn't remember. "The device was a test, the device was a test, the device was a test." He chanted over and over to himself, as Vincent punched him again, and again, until he lost consciousness.
In the end, it took about an hour before they had a team comprised of twenty human officers and forty MX's plus Dorian, briefed and ready to go. Dorian had been getting increasingly annoyed at the length of time it was taking, but during the briefing the commander singled him out and told him that his role would be to focus on extracting John, and that had calmed him immensely. Eventually Dorian was armed with an assault rifle and was stood at the entrance beside the MXs that had been chosen to be the first to enter.
There was no dramatic breaking down of the door, now that they had control of the building again, it took a keycode and a radio signal from the MXs and the electronic door slid open and they entered with a methodical calmness. The front of the prison was the area seen by members of the public and contained offices, the guards room and the visitation room. As they moved through the building, MXs peeled off and cleared each room, taking control of the people in it if it was occupied, moving on to the next if it was empty.
They very soon came across the fire in the guards room, but now that they had control of the building again, it took only a call on the radio before they could turn on the sprinklers and start to control the blaze. The fire had burned hot but was dying out on its own, as there was nothing left to feed it in the room or the stark concrete corridor beyond, Dorian was tempted to go in and search the room but a quick glance at the devastation inside told him that had anyone still been in there they would no longer be alive. He had to push on and hope that John had escaped.
As they got further through the building, Dorian could hear sounds of a large crowd echoing round the atrium of the main population area of the prison. Dorian sped up so that he was at the front of the officers who were making their way there, determined to be the first to find out what the reason for the shouting was, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what he found. Despite steeling himself for the worst, he froze in horror as he came through the door.
It was a good thing in that moment that MXs couldn't feel. They poured passed Dorian to secure the prisoners, while he was rooted to the spot. The atrium was vast, with concentric circles of cells on levels up above and below them, and the walkways of dozens of them were crowded with men, all staring at the same thing. Dorian followed their gaze to the three men who had been strung up on display by their wrists, facing the crowds, their feet swinging just below the floor. Dorian didn't need to see the identifying shoulder tattoo to recognise the one in the middle. He noticed splashes of blood on the floor and feared the worst. A human officer came up behind him and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before moving through, shouting at the prisoners to freeze and raise their hands. It was enough to shake Dorian out of his stupor and he rushed to help.
He ignored the shouting and the chaos of everyone else and focussed on the man in front of him. He moved between the bodies to get to the front, as he did, something crunched underfoot and he glanced down to see a used syringe. "John?" The detective's head hung low, his chin resting against his chest. He'd been beaten, deep bruising stood out on his face, along his chin, his lip split. Dorian reached up and touched the man's cheek tentatively.
He thought the man was unconscious but in response to the touch, John's lifted his head a little and stared at him with glassy eyes. "Marty?" John croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"No, it's Dorian." The android said sadly, "hold on, I'm going to get you down from here." He reached up to twisted bedsheets that had been turned into restraints, produced a knife from his pocket and started to saw through the material. Either side of him some human officers were also cutting down the two other men. They'd also been beaten. The muscular Hispanic one was mumbling something to his rescuers through what looked to Dorian to be a dislocated jaw, but the young, skinny one was hanging limply. Dorian recognised him as the brother of the traffickers that John had been sent in to get information from. The officer with him was searching desperately for a pulse. Without stopping his work to free John, Dorian reached out with a hand and placed it on the prisoner's chest. When he could detect no signs of life he shook his head sadly.
Suddenly the knife cut through the last of the material that was holding John up and his arms went slack. Dorian caught the man before he fell, and held him close, taking comfort in the physical contact and hoping that John was too. But it appeared that John had no idea where he was, he kept whispering, "I'm sorry Marty, I'm sorry." Dorian lifted the distraught man into his arms and hurried for the exit.