EVO Universe 1: The First (28 page)

“Well here’s something she didn’t tell you,” Sophia leaned against the security desk counter sneering, “That son of a bitch confessed to me the night before I was to be executed, that he did rape her.”

A savage curve ball out of nowhere where the words that fired out of her mouth, he was not sure he was on strike two or three but he was sure this conversation was officially downhill. At this point, his best bet was to switch from baseball to boxing. Let her talk and find a rope a dope to this conversation.

“A year and a half ago he sexually assaulted her in the laundry room,” Sophia began to explain to him; “He knew how to maneuver the cameras the night before to create a blind spot between the large driers where no one can see. He was also in control of the work schedule, so he could put her where and when he wanted her. Rosanna was doing a two year for a first offense grand theft auto charge, and as tough as she talked she wasn’t built for prison and he knew that. Wilford promised if she didn’t drop the charges he’d sic the Sisters of the Arian Nation on her and they’d make her life a living hell even if he were arrested.”

“He told her he’d make sure she’d never get out of prison. That he’d find a way to keep her there or make sure she was carried out in a body bag,” she went on to explain, “and even though Sister Shareef promised to protect her she couldn’t guarantee twenty-four hour protection especially when Buck had friends who could have the work schedule changed on his behalf. So she dropped the charge, said it was a misunderstanding, and forgot about it.”

She took a minute to get her anger under control, as she continued to tell Mark more about the infamous Buck Wilford.

“He waited a month before she was supposed to get out to teach her a “lesson”; she said it as if it actually happened to her, “and because he missed the way she “smelled down there”. He knew so close to her getting out she wasn’t going to say anything…he said telling me was a “gift” I could take to my grave.”

“How did he get desk duty?” Mark asked engaging in the conversation.

“Sister Shareef told her niece, who’s a District Attorney in Austin, and she put pressure on the DA in Gatesville to file an inquiry,” she answered, “Buck told me it wouldn’t stick. He also promised Sister Shareef would be joining me soon for being an uppity bitch sticking her nose in his business, and I dare you to ask me why I a death row inmate didn’t come forward with this information. I did manage to slip her a letter about it in the bible I gave her before my final walk; information is useless to her now though.”

“So to save your friend, you took matters into your own hands,” Mark concluded.

“Wasn’t planned,” she shrugged, “I didn’t go looking for him, especially with all hell breaking loose that day…but when I saw his nasty greasy ass between me and three or four concrete walls to freedom…with nothing to lose I decided what the hell.”

He was not sure if she was taunting him; sizing him up or attempting to get some form of rise out of him. He did know that time was winding down, and King was a man of his word.

Mark decided a bit of a reality check was in order, “Ms. Dennison…, I’m here to make sure no one gets hurt…”

“No you’re not Special Agent, you’re trying to handle me,” she cut him off with a sarcastic laugh; “I double majored in psychology, and I think you know by now…I can’t get “hurt” so easily.”

She was verbally beating him in the corner; Sophia gave him a look that could turn stone to dust, “You came in here trying to see if you could restore order and reason, to try to put this little problem in a box like so long ago. I’m sorry to disappoint you…that’s
not
going to happen today.”

“I’m not here trying to put you in some box Ms. Dennison,” Mark defended himself, “Look…clearly a lot of mistakes were made…”

“That’s what you’re going to tell me Special Agent? Mistakes were made? The system wasn’t perfect? When I was like ten, my mom had a crystal swan broach with gold accents that she accused me of taking. When I told her I didn’t take it, she said I was lying and must have lost it. I got an ass whooping and sent to my room without dinner. I was in my room crying for almost an hour, when my baby sister walked up to my mom with the broach in her hair asking her why I got a beating. When my mom came in my room, no matter how much she hugged me and told me she was sorry I would not stop crying, nor be consoled,” she told her story with a sneered expression, “
that
was a mistake…but you want to negotiate Special Agent? Here are my terms.”

She stretched out her hands in a passive position, “Give me back my husband…and I will surrender.”

To which Mark responded, “Excuse me?”

“I believe I’m still speaking English,” she returned, “And before you say my request is impossible, remember impossible is standing right before you. I think it’s a very simple request…I don’t want my four years back…I don’t want my job back, or money, or my possessions… I’ll even forgive the State of Texas for killing me, if you can give me back…my husband…Robert Matheson…I will surrender… and you can do
whatever
you want with me…that is all I want…can you do that?”

In all of Mark’s entire life, he never felt more uncomfortable than in that moment. He did not see crazy in her eyes, or he hoped. Therefore, if she did not have a case of insanity, she knew well that her request was impossible. What was the correct response to such a demand he thought.

“Ms. Dennison…” Mark began swallowing as hard as Hampton did when he interrogated him. Before he could begin with a reasonable explanation that would not get him killed, she waved him off.

“Stop, that was an unfair and unreasonable request,” Sophia half apologetically recognized with a hint of sarcasm, “Here’s another proposal, you go outside to your superiors and tell them I will surrender if and only if they find and turn over the members of the D.E.A.D to me.”

Once again, Mark felt uncomfortable; the request went from resurrecting the dead, to making the tooth fairy appear. Not that he did not believe they existed with all the evidence he had and Sophia’s worldwide statement, but there was no way of materializing individuals that were originally campfire stories soldiers told five minutes ago.

“Ms. Dennison…” Mark started again with a weary swallow.

She cut him off at the knees again, “You gonna tell me the United States Government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists Special Agent?”

He was a bit insulted that she would think he would say something that stupid.

“If you are…remember… United Nations General Assembly in 1994 defined terrorism as, a group of persons or particular persons committing criminal acts intended or calculated to provoke a state of terror in the public. For political, philosophical, ideological, racial, ethnic, religious or any other nature that they may deem justifiable,” she cited.

Now she was insulting him by reciting something she probably read off Wikipedia, remembering what Hampton told him about her super memory.

“Now you can charge me with manslaughter or second degree murder. Breaking and entering, evading and eluding or trespassing.” she motioned to her surroundings, “I’ll even cop to breaking out of prison although technically I think I served my time when I allowed that state to execute me…but I have not committed a terrorist act, nor am I a terrorist. All I want after all the hell I have been through…is
justice
, and I don’t think that’s too much to ask for. As I said upstairs, I am not going anywhere until I find those responsible for murdering my husband and framing me. So there are only two options Special Agent…you can march back out there, and tell your superiors to move heaven and hell to get me the people I want…”

Sophia leaned forward a bit to get her point across, “Or I walk out there and find them myself, and all of you can “try” to stop me.”

Mark put his head down in defeat, Sophia knocked him out several rounds ago, and they were nearing the ten minutes given to him. He also knew very well no one outside was going to agree to her terms, and she would not bow.

“You know…that’s not going to happen”, he said quietly.

“Then there’s nothing more to discuss…is there Special Agent. By the way…,” her eyes became glassy with tears of pent up rage, “How you feel right now…powerless…that’s how I felt…doesn’t feel good…does it?”

“I’m sorry,” he somberly returned looking at his shoe, as his shoulders felt heavy for some reason.

“You didn’t murder my husband or turn my world upside down,” returned Sophia, “So why are you apologizing?”

Mark chose his next words carefully, “Ms. Dennison, there’s no way we could have known…”

“That’s the problem Mark…I can call you Mark? “We” didn’t know,” she cut him in half again wiping her eyes, “ We the “people” too busy watching American friggin Idol, or House Wives of whatever state I could give a shit about to asked the question, “What the “hell” is my government doing while I sleep at night. We let people who we elect, claim they have our best interest at heart bend us over a table doing whatever they like while we’re texting our BFF. We don’t do a damn thing till it hits the fan, and even when we’re drowning in it we still do nothing. Sanctioned Death Squads coming into our homes in the dead of the night killing our loved ones and framing us for it is just the extreme side of it, but my eyes have been opened…and now it’s time to open everyone else’s for good. So again, thank you but no Special Agent…as a former card carrying member of the Republican Party, which “killed” my parents. I have waited for the system to come to its senses, and see my innocence to the very end when they strapped me on that table…I’m going to have to decline coming in and talking to the likes of you…no offense.”

Armitage looked into her eyes and saw that there was no longer a shred of reasoning. How could there be after what she described being put through? He thought about criminals he muscled with the power of the Federal law backing him, how small and feeble they felt when he put the hammer down on them, even though they deserved it. His power was now small and feeble against an innocent woman scorned, with the power of a god coursing through her veins. Diplomacy was officially dead.

“You’re not good a negotiations, are you?” she plainly asked.

“No,” huffed Mark flicking imaginary dust from the marble security counter, “I guess I’m not.”

“Two tanks out there huh?” she turned looking again out the glass doors, killing the awkward silence.

He did not know her before but he could tell after six days she was really getting into being a super human, which forced a smirk on his face, “Yeah…”

“Probably should have brought three,” she started to get a little amped, “They got snipers? And those mini-gun things like in Predator?”

“Something like that…” he nodded.

Sophia frowned looking at her gear, “Gonna mess up my outfit, you know I just bought this on Saturday?”

“Listen…there are kids out there,” Mark went in with one final plea, “Husbands and wives caught up in this mess doing their duty…is there any chance you could…not…”

Mark was at a loss for words, this was not any regular negotiation. She was not holding hostages, nor did she have a bomb or a biological weapon.

She was the weapon, an extremely powerful one; and here he was standing there, pleading with her not to walk through those doors and possibly hurt good people outside for the sins of a failed system. Sophia looked into his carved out worn eyes, that probably hadn’t seen a good night’s sleep in years including the days he was chasing her and saw goodness in a harden face.

She smiled deciding to do him a solid, “So if you were to talk me down, what was supposed to happen next?”

“You coming out with your hands behind your head, ready to kneel and be restrained,” he motioned grateful that she was willing to work with him.

“That again?!” she scoffed remembering his attempt to make her kneel and surrender at the General’s house, “Well that’s not going to happen, but I think I can do something to make sure not a single shot gets fired…and no one gets hurt…radio your people…tell them I will come out with my hands up behind my head.”

As she moved to head to the entrance, Mark cautiously put his hand out to stop her, asking her one last question, “I got to know…everything you said upstairs about the…”

“All true…but I think you knew that,” she confirmed as she looked into his eyes while answering his question.

“Last question,” he threw out, “Why did you decide to talk with me for so long?”

She gave him simple pleasant smile, “Something told me you’d probably be the last nice person I’d ever get to talk to.”

She turned heading to the door, as Armitage stood there dumbfounded and guilt ridden. He had lived in a world that hardened him to the fact that evidence ruled, and the justice system though faulty was fair; there was nothing fair about what the system did to the young woman who smiled at him, and was walking out to meet several hundred guns pointed at her. He had no right to asked her to surrender and subject herself to that very same system that had blatantly failed her on so many levels.

He was not a religious man, the only time he visited church after his altar boy days was for Christmas and Easter with his ex-wife dragging him there, but he had to wonder as he watched her walk off. Had things gotten so bad that the Man upstairs, who remained silent for so long, allowing His children to figure out their own shit, decide that this one time enough was enough and it was His time to intervene? Did He spare her life…so she could shatter an already broken system?