Black Onyx Duology (23 page)

CHAPTER 3

William Yates pulled up in his Lincoln and parked just outside the yellow police tape. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror and noticed the gray on his temples. He was old enough now that he was feeling the tug of the way things used to be.

The bank appeared normal from the outside and it always struck him how routine a place could look after going through something evil. He thought that somehow its appearance should change too.

He stepped out of the cruiser and walked over. A uniformed officer stood there, keeping the crowd of onlookers at bay, and he nodded to William as he ducked under the tape.

“Morning, Detective,” the officer said.

“Morning.”

William walked around toward the entrance. When he got there, he froze. What he saw reminded him of a war zone, something you’d see in a market in Iraq or Afghanistan after a suicide bombing. Police cruisers were smashed and overturned. The body of one of their own lay on the pavement of the parking lot, his head crushed to a pulp. Bits of displaced pavement surrounded everything.

He walked to the front and nodded to some of the other officers before entering the bank. The first thing he noticed was that the doorway had been bent on the sides, as if a car had driven through the entrance.

William’s partner, Heather Glazer, was speaking to a man that appeared to be management. He held a paper cup filled with water and his hand shook so badly water was spilling out onto the floor. William came up next to them but didn’t say anything.

“Agamemnon,” the banker said, “that’s what he said his name was. Agamemnon.”

“You’re sure?” Heather said.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You don’t forget someone like him.”

“Thank you for time, Mr. Norton. Please have a seat. You’ll be released shortly.”

The man nodded and walked away, glancing once to William.

“Agamemnon, huh?” William said. “That’s cute.”

“I think you better watch the footage, Will.”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

In the back room, William saw some forensic techs making copies of the surveillance videos on a portable digital recorder.

“Show him,” Heather said.

William stood behind everyone else and looked around the room as they cued the video. The room was bare except for a desk, a chair, and a computer. There were no decorations.

“Here it is,” one of the
techs said.

William watched the monitor. Though it was in black and white, the picture was clear. It opened to the bank going about the business that a bank does. Customers waited in line, bankers in the side offices gabbed into phones, tellers concentrated on counting out cash.

And then, the screen went gray.

“What happened?” William said.

“That’s not the video,” the tech said, “that’s smoke.”

It took nearly two minutes to clear and every once in a while small, bright
flashes would cut through the haze. Gunfire.

Once the smoke cleared William could see several men running around the bank, neutralizing everyone inside and gathering
them together. The men were dressed in regular clothing and had dreadlocks. Myrs, William guessed. One of the most violent gangs in the city. But they weren’t into bank robberies; they were into selling dope. What were they doing here?

“This is it,” Heather said.

The doors bent as a figure walked through them. It didn’t register to William that it was human. But as it came into view, William could see the eyes and the nose, though the jaw was covered by a hunk of metal that would flash intermittently. The muscles were enormous, almost comical. But the metal suit caught his attention above everything else. It looked solid, like a steel door, but it moved with the figure. It was flexible. William had never seen a metal capable of doing that.

“What the hell is that?” William mumbled.

Heather shook her head. “Whatever it is, I think we’re going to need more men.”

William flinched as the man broke the neck of a teller and flung the body on the floor like a wet towel. The figure then went outside where the cameras didn’t have a good view, but at one point he could see a police cruiser flipping over and over until it was out of the frame.

The video ended and William asked to watch it again. He pushed past Heather and stood no more than a couple feet from the monitor as he watched the figure terrorize and kill. When it was over, he stood up straight and shook his head.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Terrorist groups?” Heather asked.

“Don’t even say that. Just mentioning it will make Homeland Security appear, and the last thing I need are a bunch of arrogant pricks running around messing with my witnesses and crime scene. But I don’t think that’s what this is. They would’ve tried to kill everyone. And they usually don’t care about the money. It’s a statement with them. This ain’t a statement.”

Heather took a deep breath. “Well, we better start talking to everybody. Looks like an even split. You want the men?”

“Sure. And I saw a news chopper up there. Get some uniforms to make sure we don’t have any reporters in here. And the fallen officer’s family needs to be told.”

“I’m on it.”

William stood a while and then asked the tech to play the video again. He told him to pause it when the figure pushed apart the metal doorframe. William glanced around, making sure no one was watching, and pulled the glasses out of the breast pocket of his button-up shirt. He put them on and leaned forward.

The figure’s face was wide and appeared hard. The eyes were set far apart and the forehead protruded. Clearly, the eyes had no pupils: just a ghostly whiteness. The man appeared like he had some sort of disorder. But as far as what it was, William hadn’t a clue.

“Would you like to watch it again, Detective?” the tech said.

“No, thanks. I think I’ve had my fill of him for now. I have a feeling I’m gonna be seeing more of him soon anyway.”

CHAPTER 4

Jack Kane pulled his Dodge Viper to a stop in front of the two-story home with the white picket fence. It appeared like something out of a movie. The perfect couple gets together and buys the perfect house. It even had a red wagon on the lawn.

He took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. The last time he was here, it hadn’t ended well. But that was nearly six years ago and he was a different man then.

Jack walked to the front door and went to knock but instead rang the doorbell. Something seemed too casual about knocking for him. He waited a few moments until he heard the door unlock and open.

A young girl stood there. She looked up at him, curiosity in her eyes, and none of the fear that children her age usually had upon seeing a stranger.

“Who are you?” she said.

Jack couldn’t suppress a smile. He crouched down to eye level. “Now you’re Autumn, aren’t you? Autumn, I remember when you were born. I was there in the hospital. See your daddy was fighting in Iraq and so I was who the nurses gave you too when you first came into this world. You weren’t any bigger than a football. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

She looked confused. “Who are you again?”

“Jack!” his sister yelled. She ran up from inside and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him on the cheek and wouldn’t let go of him.

“How are you, Nic?”

“How am I?” she said, finally pulling away. “How am I?” She punched him in the shoulder. “Not even a call in over a year?”

“I was on a project I couldn’t call out on.”

A male voice from inside shouted, “Is that Jack?” A man with orange hair and a matching beard came out, his shirt tucked into some Dockers. He thrust out his hand and Jack shook it. “You look skinny.”

“Haven’t been eating well.”

“We’re gonna change that,” his sister said. “Come on, come in.”

Jack walked into the family home he grew up in and a sudden sense of peace and sadness filled him. Peace because there was nowhere in the world he felt more at ease, and sadness because, after so many years, he was a stranger here.

“Autumn,” his sister said as she led Jack by the arm into the living room, “this is your uncle Jack. You used to call him Unkie ack. Do you remember that?”

The child smiled but looked confused, unable to pull up the memory.

His sister sat down next to him and Hank and Autumn sat on the sofa across from them. Jack noticed that Hank had gained at least thirty pounds, and the beard was new. He looked old and Jack wondered if time had aged him too but he just hadn’t noticed.

“So tell us everything,” Nicole said.

He smirked, tousling her hair. “You know I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How long are you here for?”

“This is it. I’m done.”

“What’dya mean?”

“I mean I’m done. I resigned from the DEA.”

She threw her arm around his neck again. “You mean you’re home for good?”

“As long as the city’ll have me.”

Hank smiled. “It’s good to see you, Jack. To be honest, I was forgetting what you looked like.”

“I know,” he said, smiling to Autumn. “I’ve neglected what’s important for what’s trivial. It was a mistake. I’m not going to be making that mistake again.”

“Does Mom know?” Nicole interrupted.

“No, I came straight here. Well, after the car dealership.”

“Don’t tell me that red penis mobile at the curb is your car.”

“Hank,” Nicole said, laughing.

“Just kidding. I’m mostly jealous.”

“I bled for that thing, Hank. I don’t think it was a fair trade. How’s my room?”

“Oh you have to go see it,” his sister said. “We kept it the same. Hank wanted to turn it into a billiards room but I knew you’d be back soon.”

Jack leaned down and kissed his sister on the top of the head, feeling emotion swell up inside him as he heard her cell phone dial a number and his mother’s voice come on the line.

Jack was stuffed by the time dinner was over. His entire family was at Nicole’s house, over thirty people including kids. Two of his brothers were arguing about the Democratic Party’s stance on the Second Amendment and Jack used it as an opportunity to sneak away and head upstairs to his old room.

The photos in the hallway upstairs hadn’t been changed. Him in his martial arts uniforms, boxing, wrestling…and some of his father, who had passed four years ago. Jack had been on assignment in Korea and wasn’t able to attend the funeral.

“He’s already gone,” he had told Nicole over the phone, “it won’t matter if I come back.” But, somehow, he knew it did matter. He was the eldest son and his not being at the funeral was a disappointment to his family.

His siblings weren’t as athletic but a few photos featured Nicole at chess tournaments throughout California, something she gave up when she got married. He wished they had taken down the photo at the end. It was of him at three years old, sitting on the steps of St. Catherine’s Youth Home, waiting for his biological parents to pick him up. He didn’t remember what they looked like now and he was grateful. His family was here; in every way that mattered, this was his family.

But he still thought about them. He remembered his mother in a white laboratory coat smiling and kissing him though her face was blank now. Faded with the sands of time. He wondered if she looked like him. He figured she must’ve been some sort of professional though he didn’t remember anything about his father.

He went to his old room and stood at the doorway. The bed was exactly the same. They hadn’t even changed his sheets. He walked in and sat down on the bed. Posters of Michael Jordan and Miami Vice were up on the wall. On the small desk in the corner was a photo of him and Master Baek, his suseung nim when he had spent the few years after high school in Seoul, training at the master’s academy.

He thought of the little old man throwing two-hundred-pound students across the room as easily as one would pillows. He thought he was superhuman at the time. Age and physics didn’t seem to affect him.

Jack rose and took in a deep breath, unable to suppress a smile.

CHAPTER 5

Despite the insistence of his sister and her husband, Jack bought a condo in Burbank twenty minutes from their home rather than stay with them. The place was empty and he didn’t have the desire to decorate it so he hired an interior decorator and told him to furnish it as well.

Jack had no need of money, as his biological parents had left no heir upon their deaths. The executor of their estate knew about Jack, and tracked him down rather than letting the government get their hands on the family money. But he still wondered what he was going to do for work.

He once learned about a thought experiment that said you should imagine yourself walking into a bookstore. The first section that you go to is the field you’re supposed to have your career in. Jack always went to the martial arts and then the science sections; his undergraduate degree was in mathematics.

Though he didn’t need it, he understood that work occupied the mind and gave a person purpose. Without it, you would drift aimlessly and then adopt a nihilist stance that could lead to depression. He’d always wanted his own martial arts studio to pass down everything he had learned to others and decided he would go scout out locations today. But first, there was someone he had to visit.

He took Santa Monica Boulevard for the view, and eventually, after an hour and a half of driving and watching the crystal-blue of the ocean spread out before him, he made it to the LAPD’s Hollywood Division. He parked in visitor parking and it hit him that he forgot to get an alarm installed on his Viper.
Something else for the to-do list.

He walked into the precinct and to the reception desk. A woman in a police uniform was helping a man make a report, and Jack waited patiently behind him. Hollywood Division wasn’t exactly South Central, but still, a good number of drunks and prostitutes and wife-beaters yelled from the holding cells and had fingerprints and photographs taken.

When the man in front of him had finished, he stepped forward and said, “Officer William Yates please.”

“
Detective
Yates is currently in a meeting. You can have a seat if you want and I’ll buzz him when he’s done.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Jack sat down on some chairs set out as a waiting area and looked to the small, circular coffee table with old magazines piled on it. He sifted through them but found nothing interesting except a three-month-old copy of
Sports Illustrated
. He started flipping through it when someone screamed near the entrance.

He glanced over and saw an officer holding his neck, blood running over his fingers, and two other officers jump on a man with dreadlocks. The man with the dreadlocks was laughing hysterically, blood dribbling down his chin, his teeth stained red. The two officers tackled him and one of them strapped a gag over his mouth to prevent any more biting. Lifting him by his arms, they carried him to a cell.

“Jack?”

He looked up to see Detective Yates standing in front of him. William’s hair was gray at the temples and the potbelly was new.
He looks tired
, Jack thought. Tired and burnt out.

Jack rose and the two men slapped hands and embraced quickly.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’m now a former DEA agent. I quit a week ago.”

“Seriously? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I wanted to come down and see you—Detective.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, got bumped up a few years back.”

“What division are you in now?”

“Robbery-Homicide. Pay’s good and I don’t have a huge caseload. Definitely better than busting hookers with Vice.”

“Congrats, Will. I mean that. I can’t think of anyone that deserves it more.”

“Thanks. Hey, what’re you doin’ for lunch?”

“No plans right now.”

“I know a place. You gotta come with. Lemme grab my jacket. Hang on.”

Jack waited by the entrance. He could hear the man with dreadlocks shouting in his cell.

“He’s comin’!” he yelled. “He’s comin’ and all you’s gonna pay! He’s comin’ for Armageddon.”

One of the officers banged his nightstick against the bars. “Shut the hell up in there!”

The man laughed. “You, I’ll remember you when Armageddon comes.”

“Yeah? Remember this,” the officer said, jabbing the man in the nose with the tip of the stick.

The scene made Jack uncomfortable and he walked outside through the double doors and waited off to the side. The sun was bright and a thin gray haze blanketed the sky. He remembered it from when he was a kid but it wasn’t like this. It looked like the clouds had been filled with dirt and clung to the sky from stickiness.

“You ready?” William said, stepping out as he slung his suit coat on.

“Lotta commotion in there,” he said as they walked to his Viper.

“See that guy with the dreadlocks?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s them. They’re calling themselves Myrs. It’s a gang. All of ‘em have tats and dreadlocks; that’s kind of their thing. Looks pretty silly to me compared to the cartel or the Tres Locos but these guys are a level of violence we haven’t seen. They’ll shoot up an entire bus just to take out one person. And they don’t seem to care if they get arrested. One guy did a hit in a McDonald’s and then sat down and started eating the dead guy’s burger.”

“Sound like tweakers to me.”

“No, not at all. Not a single one, at least up here, has ever even gotten a drug charge. They seem to just sell the stuff, but never use. Holy crap, is that yours?”

“You like?”

“I would give my left nut for a car like that.”

Jack threw him the keys. “It’s yours.”

“Jack, I’m not taking—”

“You’re my oldest friend, William. You’re my only friend. Let me do this. Money sitting in a bank account is worthless to me.”

“I can’t go around in a car like this on a cop’s salary, I’m sorry. Buy me a Honda or Buick and you got a deal.”

“Well at least drive then.”

“That, I will gladly do.”

They peeled out of the parking lot and onto Hudson before getting onto Fountain Avenue. William hit the gas and they reached eighty miles an hour before he slowed down, a massive smile on his face. Jack decided he would leave the car on William’s driveway tonight with a bow on top.

After going through various neighborhoods, they took a turn underneath a freeway bridge and passed a hospital and a strip mall before coming to a shack with a drive-thru. It had no more than four or five tables inside and only three employees but William swore it had the best burgers in Southern California.

Once they were inside, Jack ordered a chicken sandwich and a salad and William got two double cheeseburgers with fries. They sat down by the window and Jack watched the traffic outside. He was unaccustomed to being himself. Usually, he was playing someone else in a foreign country where nobody knew him or wanted to know him. Now it was just him and he thought about how odd it was that he should feel weird in his own skin.

“So?” William said.

“So.”

“So why’d you quit the DEA?”

Jack shook his head. “They focus on things they shouldn’t be focusing on while major things slip past them. The cartels murder dozens of people and the DEA doesn’t lift a finger. Some poor guy with cancer opens a medicinal marijuana dispensary and the feds raid it like he’s Al Capone. I can’t take the hypocrisy.”

“What’dya think government work is, Jack? You think you go out there and do the most efficient thing to achieve your goals? No way. Government’s not run for profit so no one cares how much money you’re spending or what you’re doing. At least until election time when the pinheads on the hill gotta start talking about budget cuts.”

“This is different. They put me in places, Will, that you wouldn’t believe. It was almost like they wanted me to get killed. Like it boosts morale or something. I just couldn’t handle it anymore.”

“Well, whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re home.” The burgers came and William took a large bite, grease mingled with mayonnaise dripping down his chin. “So,” he said with a mouthful of burger, “what you gonna do now?”

“I was thinking of opening up a Hapkido dojo.”

“No way? Really? I’d love to see that. I always thought you’d be good at running a studio. No money in it, though. Some of the other studios charge so little you can’t compete with them.”

“It’s not about the money for me. It helped me when I needed it most. I think it can do it for other kids.” He took a bite of salad. “So what’s going on with you?”

“Same old same old. I’m working the high-profile cases now. I don’t know why, but someone up in Command liked a few things I did. Hopefully I’ll get bumped to captain soon and can get outta RH.” He took another bite of his burger and then a bite of a fry before sucking down some soda. “This one case, though, I gotta show you the video; it is something else. The Myrs I was talkin’ about? The dreadlocks? They robbed a bank. First time ever I think. And their leader, or something like that, walks in. Well, ‘walks’ isn’t the right word. Barrels his way in. He bent the doorframe. There are holes in the stone floor where he walked. The guy had to be at least seven feet, eight maybe, somewhere there. And built like a tank.”

“How much did they get?”

“Quarter mil. Never seen anything like this guy, though. He was throwing around police cruisers like they were toys.”

“I had a case once where I had to take down a distributor who was a PCP addict. When we went in for the takedown, he was so high he started running into a wall to get away. He threw his body into it so many times he finally broke through. Busted every bone in his body, but he got through.”

William shook his head. “This is something different. I’ve never seen a guy like this before.” He waited a few moments and said, “I could sure use some help on this.”

“William…”

“What?”

“I’m not LAPD.”

“I bet the commissioner would be psyched if you got back on the squad. Look, opening your own dojo would be fun and all, but think how much good you could do out here. With the knowledge you got locked away in your head? You could help clean this town up.”

“I’m not a cop anymore, William. I don’t think I ever was.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s a shame. For the city.”