Emily Kimelman - Sydney Rye 05 - The Devil's Breath (18 page)

Mulberry laughed. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. You’re the one ogling me.”

I pushed past him. “I wasn’t ogling. I was admiring.”

Mulberry closed the door behind us and followed me into the suite. “Admiring?” he said. “I like that. Mind my returning the favor? I’ll gladly
admire
you.”

I held up my phone. “Do you recognize this man?”

Mulberry took it and concentrated on the screen. “I don’t think so.”

“His name is Professor Nablestone. Is there a way you can find out if he’s ever visited FGI?”

Mulberry shrugged, looking down at the photo. “I could check the logs tomorrow.”

“What about tonight?”

He looked up at me. “Sydney, it’s almost 3 am.” I looked around the room, it was set up the same as my suite with seating around a flat screen TV. There was a beer on the coffee table and an open folder with papers spilling across the couch.

“Right,” I said, shaking my head. He took a step closer and wrapped an arm around my waist. I felt the warmth of it surround me. Mulberry lowered his face to mine and smiled close. I looked up at him, our noses touching. He nuzzled me and I laughed; then he kissed me quickly. A peck, nothing more, but he held me even tighter. I placed my hands against his bare chest and looked down at them feeling his breath against my forehead. Then I closed my eyes, stood up on my toes, and closed the small space between our lips.

Mulberry’s arm tensed around me, his free hand grabbing my hip and pulling me closer. He bore into me, my back bending against his arm, my hands entwined in his hair. But then he pulled his lips from mine.

“Sydney, there is something I have to tell you,” he said, his arms still holding me tight, so tight I couldn’t quite catch my breath.

“Mulberry,” I said, it came out as a plea more than the protest I wanted to express.

“Just listen,” he said, shaking me a little.

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said.

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“I can’t hear it. Whatever it is,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest.

Mulberry frowned and released me, stepping away toward the couch. The room seemed suddenly cold. I turned and left, my bare feet silent as I traveled down the hall to my own room.

#

A
shley was waiting in the lobby of FGI the next morning. She held two cups of ice coffee and was wearing a fitted gray jacket over a bright, flower-patterned blouse and a knee length skirt that matched the jacket. Her heels were the same pink as the blossoms on her shirt. She smiled when I came in and walked over, offering me one of the beverages.

“Thanks,” I said, taking it from her. I kept walking and she fell in line opposite Blue, slightly behind and to the side of me.

“Mr. Maxim asked me to show you up to the dojo.” She sounded proud to have been trusted with the task. “He thought you might enjoy a tour on the way.”

“A tour?” I asked, swiping my ID and passing through the turnstile. Blue slipped under the gate and she pulled her card from her pocket and followed.

“Yes,” Ashley said, catching up to me at the elevators. “To get you better acquainted with our amenities.”

“Is that why you work here?” I asked her.

She smiled nervously. “This is the best organization of its kind in the world. I’m honored to work here.”

“All right,” I said. “Why don’t you just give me the rundown on our way to the dojo.”

“It would be easier to show you,” she said, smiling tightly.

I shook my head. “It’s already almost ten. I’m meeting someone.”

“After?” she asked.

The elevator opened and we walked in. “Give me the rundown now and then, if I’m interested I’ll let you show me around later.” Other people got on. Buttons were pressed. “Dojo, please,” I said. Someone pushed the button.

Ashley frowned. The doors closed.

“Time for the elevator pitch,” I said to Ashley. There were five other people on the lift with us. All of them shared Ashley’s style. I was the only one in leggings, T-shirt, and sneakers. The doors opened on the second floor and a man got off, nodding and smiling on his way out. We all nodded and smiled back. Someone mumbled “good morning.”

“Start with what was on that floor,” I said to Ashley as our journey began again.

“That’s offices,” she answered. I sipped from the coffee and nodded for her to continue. “You’ve seen our video rooms.” I nodded again. “We also have forensic labs.” The doors opened again and the man who’d pushed the button for me smiled my way.

“Your floor, I think,” he said.

I laughed. “Thanks,” I said, before exiting, Ashley and Blue by my sides. We were in a long corridor with laminate flooring and white walls. I could here the squeek and bounce of a basketball game being played nearby. The smell of chlorine hung in the air. “Which way?” I asked.

Ashley lead me down the hall, away from the sports sounds and turned into another corridor. “On this level we have an amazing gym.  The dojo, obviously. Racket courts,” she ticked off a finger as we walked by closed doors, the sound of hard rubber balls smacking into walls emanating from inside. “Squash, basketball, a swimming pool,” she kept ticking them off, like this was some type of memory quiz I was putting her through. “Climbing wall, a gun range in the basement. That’s near the forensic lab.”

She pushed through a door and we were in a large room lined with cardio equipment. Rows of gray machines, with TVs set into them, sat in front of a large glass window. There was a smattering of people using them. The whine of the machines and the thump of the runners feet made for a quiet soundtrack compared to the vivid scenes on the television screens. “This doesn’t look like a dojo,” I said.

“I know, but-,” Ashly faltered. “You like to run right?”

I looked at her through narrowed eyes. “Not at a TV,” I said. “Where is the dojo?”

“I’ll show you.”

“Now,” I said, turning and walking out the door.

She continued down the hall. “We’ve got a great recovery unit,” Ashley said, her voice nervous. “Our physical therapists are known to be the best. We have both in-patient and out-patient care. An OR even, if necessary,” she said.

“For when employees get hurt?” I asked.

“Not just employees.” Ashley stopped in front of another door and turned to me, a hint of pride playing across her lips, shoulders back, recovered from the cardio room encounter. “Our facility is very secure, we can keep our clients safe in their most fragile states.”

“Is this the dojo?” I asked, pointing to the door.

“Yes.”

“Thanks for the tour,” I said, reaching for the handle.

“Do you want to learn more later?”

“Maybe tomorrow,” I said.

“But-” she started, as I turned the knob.

“Fuck off, Ashley,” I said. Her face reddened. “Don’t take it personally, just fuck off,” I said, before pushing into the dojo. 

#

T
he dojo had one mirrored wall, blonde hardwood floors, and picture windows that looked out into the building across the street. Merl was on the ground, facing the mirror, his legs in a wide V, his head resting on the floor between them. He was not alone. Three Doberman Pinchers stood up when I walked in. I recognized Lucy, the bitch Merl told me was the smartest dog he’d ever know. Michael, a large and intimidating beast, stood closest to him on the right. Next to Michael was a dog with ears still soft and floppy with puppyhood. “Sydney,” Merl said, looking up at me with a warm smile.

I felt tears prick at my eyes. He was the first person to ever know me as Sydney Rye and hearing my name in his voice called me back to our time on a Mexican beach, when he’d challenged me to live. “Merl, it’s so good to see you.” Blue stayed by my side but I could feel his enthusiasm. He was excited to see Merl, and his other friends, too.

I crossed the room and Merl stood up to meet me in a hug. He still wore all black, cargo pants tucked into army boots, tight black T-shirt, long pony tail that held his black ringlets away from his face. “Ready to train?” he asked.

“Merl,” I said, stepping away from him. “You really work for FGI now?”

He shrugged. “On a contract basis. I come in every couple months. Teach seminars regularly.”

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“No, it’s just Bobby Maxim made it seem like you worked here, full time.”

“Office politics, that’s not a game I’ve ever been adept at.”

“Will you teach me throwing stars?” I blurted out.

He laughed. “Let’s start with some Tai Chi practice.”

I looked over at the youngest of his dogs, who was staring at Blue like he would give just about anything to try tackling him. “Who’s this guy?” I asked.

Merl turned to the young pup whose tail began to thump rhythmically under his master’s gaze. “One of Thunder’s puppies.”

“Where’s Thunder?” I asked and then instantly knew. “Oh, Merl, I’m sorry.”

Merl turned back to me and smiled. “It’s okay, everything dies.”

“Always so uplifting to see you,” I said with a smile.

“Ah, are we still hiding from that truth Sydney?”

“Let’s just do some Tai Chi,” I offered.

Merl laughed and agreed. We practiced for forty five minutes, Merl leading, then watching. “Relax your fingers. Not that much. Yes, like that. We are fighting a battle, Sydney not serving cocktails. Good. Keep your weight more even, yes, never lose touch with the ground. Excellent,” and so on.

When I felt as though I was floating on my feet, completely free of any thoughts but the deep understanding of how my body moved, there was a knock at the door. All four dogs turned their heads toward the sound. Lucy and Blue both rose to their feet as Bobby Maxim walked in. He smiled at us. “I hope I’m not interrupting but I wanted to take Sydney over to the shooting range before my next meeting. You don’t mind do you, Merl?”

“Of course not,” Merl answered. “Sydney, would you like to have lunch after?”

“Yes,” I said with a smile.

#

W
e had the shooting gallery to ourselves. We’d checked out weapons from an employee behind a cage, but now we were alone in the big empty room full of bullet holes. There were seven lanes. Ours was in the center of the room.

“I know Merl doesn’t believe in guns, but you do,” Bobby said as he filled a clip with bullets.

“I use what comes my way,” I answered, eyeing the R15 rifle we’d brought in with us. It was resting on a table that ran along the back wall behind the lanes. A convenient place to keep your extra guns and bullets.

“Go ahead,” Robert said, catching my gaze.

I picked it up, light but substantial. Pulling out the clip, I began filling it, using a speed loader. The bullets were tapered at the end, the casings looked like cheap gold. The kind of gold my mother might have worn during her drinking days. The clip full and in place, I adjusted the handle length. The gun was light, it felt good and easy in my hands. When I looked through the telescope, a small red dot marked where my bullet would go.

“This range is a little short for that gun,” Bobby admitted. “Most of our rifle training is done out of town at our outdoor range.”

I lowered the gun and Bobby handed me ear muffs and eyeglasses, then loaded a target onto the mount and sent it backward, the bottom of the flimsy paper fluttering up as the pulley system took it down the room. It was orange with a white silhouette of a man’s top half on it, the bullseye in his stomach. “How’d you learn to shoot, Sydney?” Bobby asked me as the paper came to a halt.

“I grew up around hunting,” I paused. “And drug dealing.”

Bobby smiled.

“What about you?” I asked.

He brought his protection over his ears. “Similar.”

I pulled on my earmuffs and turned toward the target. Raising the R15 I placed the red dot in the center of the target. “Seems almost like cheating,” I said.

“What does?” Bobby asked.

“The red dot,” I answered before pulling the trigger. It projected the bullet straight into the bullseye of my target with hardly a kickback. I smiled and pulled the trigger again, enlarging the hole I’d already made. I lowered the gun and turned to Bobby. “You want a turn?” I asked, holding out the rifle, muzzle to the ceiling, safety on.

He laughed. “Sydney Rye, do you think I’d really turn my back on you around a loaded weapon?”

I pointed to the gun in his hand. “What about that?”

“You know I don’t want to kill you, and if I did want to kill you, I wouldn’t do it in here. But you, Ms. Rye, are crazy,” he grinned.

“I resent that,” I said with a smile. “I wouldn’t shoot you in the back.”

Bobby laughed. “I feel so much better. Now, why don’t you keep practicing and I’ll watch.”

“What’s the point?”

“I want to see how good you are.”

“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” I said with a smile, “isn’t that how it works?”

Bobby smiled but didn’t answer.

“Come on, show me what you got.”

Bobby laughed and then pushed past me to face the target. I stepped back. He took aim with the handgun. I looked the length of the room to where my target sat with its two bullseyes. A shot rang out, the casing launched into the air and bounced off the wall, landing at my feet with a small metallic ting. Looking at the target I saw a bullet hole in the center of the shadow man’s forehead.

“Lucky shot,” I said.

Bobby squeezed the trigger all 17 times creating a smiling face and buttons down his chest. He put the empty gun down and reached up, flicking the switch to bring the target back to us. A smile played across his lips and his eyes lightened.

“Ex Navy Seal?” I asked.

He laughed. The target returned to us with a clunk. Bobby turned to it and took it off its clips, replacing it with another. I held the rifle in my hands, still loaded. He was right in front of me, his back turned as he clipped the new target into place. I could click off the safety. He turned around so fast I startled at his quick movement. Before I knew what was happening the gun was taken from me. “I can hear you thinking,” he said, his face close to mine, the gun securely in his hands.

He stepped back. “Try the handgun,” he offered. “You can reload, I’ll keep this for you.” He smiled and I walked past him to the handgun, exhaling a deep breath as I went. I reloaded the clip, feeling the slippery surface of each bullet, admiring their rounded tips. I’ve always thought there was something beautiful about bullets, ever since I was a kid.