From Filth & Mud (16 page)

Jacob opened the bag and revealed a delicate platinum bracelet studded with dozens of shimmering diamonds. The inside of the bracelet was inscribed:
For My Love Sarah
. Jacob admired the intricately crafted jeweler’s work. He could imagine the look on Sarah’s face when he placed the exquisite piece around her wrist, and he was immediately filled with a sense of pride that he had not felt in years. He had not been able to provide for his family for so long, and even when he had been employed as an insurance agent, he had only made thirty thousand dollars a year. He thought about all of the birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries where he had not been able to give Sarah a gift worthy of her love, beauty, dedication, and suffering. Even when he had bought her nice things, the unspoken truth was that he had used her money. She would smile and be happily surprised, but he knew that the happiness was diminished by Sarah’s worry that it had come out of their only account. There was only so much food money, mortgage money, student loan money, little league money, and soccer money to be spent. Whatever was left over, which wasn’t much, went to their meager savings.

“So?” John did not have to ask. He knew that his friend would be staying.

Jacob stuffed the bracelet back into its satchel. “Fuck you, John!” he replied and cracked an uneasy smile as he stuffed the envelope in his ballistic vest. “I’m in! But I’m telling you now that if the bonuses get any cheaper, I’ll fucken quit!”

“Brother you’re making a wise choice; a wise choice indeed! Wait until you see the gifts from some of our more eccentric clients. How would a mistress suit you?” John threw his arm around Jacob and shook him vigorously. “Look I’m glad to have you, honestly I am. You’re the best guy out here, well excluding me of course. We need you to make XPS better, and you’ll be recognized for doing exactly that.”

- - - - - - -

Jacob drove home that night, his nerves still amped up from the standoff. He had been so close to mortal danger, and though he understood it, emotionally and spiritually, he felt truly alive once again. Jacob held the rouge satchel in his hand as he shifted the paddles of the German-made, luxury sedan: his take home company car, a perk of his new position. The supercharged, track-tuned sedan hugged the corners of the suburban road as its stiff Formula1-inspired suspension smoothed out the undulations, and allowed him to turn as aggressively as he desired. Jacob had never driven such an amazing machine, and as he pulled it into his cracked driveway and parked it alongside the minivan and Sarah’s leased car, he knew that he’d finally arrived. His skills were finally being appreciated and financially rewarded.

Jacob looked up to the second floor bedroom window above the garage, and there he found Luke and Nathan pressed up against the glass, waiting for him and their pizza. They smiled and waved down at him, no doubt excited by the supercool car. Jacob pulled the pizza out of the car and waved it toward the two boys who immediately pumped their fists then disappeared to ambush him at the door. He could hear the approaching twin tornados as they exploded down the stairs and slammed into the front door. Life was finally good after so many years.

John exited the cabin of the small company jet and walked out onto the tarmac where Jak waited for him. Her fists were on her hips, and she was impatient for answers. He loved it when she got all hot and bothered. She always dressed sexy for him, nothing ostentatious or slutty, but her skirts always seemed shorter, cut just above the knees, her heels an extra inch taller, pushing her ass that much more into the air, and accentuating her muscular calves. Even her hair was always up in a ponytail, just the way he liked it. She wanted him, but she played coy. She would be distant and cold with him in front of others, but she would drop hints to him in the things she said, and the manner in which she said them.

“Well?” Jak demanded.

“It’s done. It was quick and clean. Everything tied up in a pretty bow for you.”

“No, John, for us.” There it was again,
us
. One of these days he’d just take her, whether she admitted that she wanted it or not. Although she kept her personal life quiet, he knew about her urges. She liked to pick up girls at different bars and clubs, and bring them back to her condo, sometimes two at a time, when she felt like having a real party. She loved to be dominated by women: tied up, slapped around, choked, the rougher the better. She also loved to dominate men. She loved being taken on the kitchen floor. That’s where he would take her.

Eckert did not trust anyone, least of all Jak. He had ordered that she be watched around the clock, and so John watched, and enjoyed every minute. His cameras were everywhere in her condo and they allowed him access to her whenever he wanted.

John grinned at Jak, “Well, it’s all set. The story is dead and delivery of the first package is complete.”

“What about Jacob’s team?”

“They don’t have a clue. Jacob pressed me for answers so I offered him a plausible cover. I told him that we delivered some conflict diamonds, but those Russians spooked the shit out of him and his guys. What gives? I thought that you said that intel had them still in Montreal?”

Jak looked impatient, “Our sources lost them as soon as they arrived in Montreal. They hadn’t heard any chatter about them coming stateside. That kind of thing always gets picked up. It was an unfortunate surprise, but at least we know that they are out there.”

“Maybe if we hadn’t double-crossed them in the first place…” John caught himself. He was speaking out of turn and that was dangerous. Jak shot him a deadly look, but there was no need, he had already moved on. They always had contingency plans for problems like this. If there was one thing that he’d learned in his time at XPS, it was that there were never any loose ends. If there were any, you were probably it, and you’d be cut quicker than an Irish pennant on Parris Island.

“In either case, they shouldn’t be a concern for a while now. Eckert is making arrangements for their accounts to be satisfied. Get your teams ready because we’ll probably be making a few dozen extra deliveries from the Syracuse facility in the next few days. That will probably make your Russian shadows disappear.

“I’ll get my guys ready. Let me know when those deliveries are a go. The last thing we need is more Russians up our ass. If that isn’t bad enough, the Chinese are starting to snoop around, too.” John was beginning to lose faith in the power of the restitution payments that they were making to their ex-clients in Russia.
Seriously, how much crystal-meth, opiates, and erectile dysfunction pills could they need?
 

“Eckert assures me that he’s got it covered.” Jak turned and headed toward the car. John stared at her ass the entire way. He couldn’t think of a better way to die.

- - - - - - -

Paul meditated in the lotus position on the interlaid tatami which lay in the precise center of his penthouse suite’s Macassar Ebony floor. His breathing was deep and relaxed, coursing new life into his exhausted muscles. His white do-gi, bloodstained and soaked in sweat, hung on him like burial dress. His body wanted to collapse, but he willed it into position. He relished this moment when he came back to life after escaping the brink of death. Its magic was only second to that moment when his world began to fade to darkness. He would struggle to force life-giving blood back into his brain as every neuron fired at the brink of overload. It was the primal instinct of self-preservation, but alas instinct alone was never enough to overcome the skill of his opponents, and inevitability.

He frequently invited some of the best fighters in the world to train with him, and he paid them handsomely for their service. He was as much their sparring partner as they were his private tutors. To a person, they all initially wondered who this pampered man was who wanted to train with them, but they all left with a nodding respect for his martial heart and skill.

Paul lived for battle. It gave him a sense of peace like no other. His anger, ego, and irrational emotion, all psychological remnants of humanity’s deep evolutionary past dissolved in the fray. In the aftermath, what was left was an incomparable clarity of mind, purpose, and will, that was born of extreme duress. He invited the punishment and relished it. He’d done so since that day when he lay as a bloody mess on the street—the day he was born again. He recalled how he had risen from the filthy alley, where he’d been left for dead, covered in scabby blood, not knowing who he was, or who to turn to. His only realization was that he was, and would always be, alone. He stumbled around the city for a couple of hours before he found refuge in a subway station where he washed his wounds in the lone working sink of a dingy bathroom. Still concussed, he followed a mother as she pushed her stroller through a security gate, boarded the next train that reached the platform, and lost consciousness. When he came to, a Transit Authority policeman was nudging him in the chest.

“Hey kid, are you okay?” Officer Eckert asked. “Kid what’s your name?”

“Paul,” was his reply.

“Okay Paulie, you need to get off the train. This line is shutting down for the night. Where are you headed?”

Paul did not speak a word and ran off of the train. A minute later, Paul Eckert emerged from the subterranean labyrinth of the subway station and into the darkness of Times Square
.
This memory would forever become the focal point of his meditation. His mantra:
Paul Eckert—
the name that he repeated, the name that had set him free.

- - - - - - -

Jacob soon began to ease into his role in the Special Services Division, finding comfort in the fast-paced operational tempo. Most of his jobs only took a couple of days which left him plenty of time to take care of the boys and the house. Sarah enjoyed the reincarnated Jacob. His romantic charm had returned. Her stress was alleviating, a little each day, until she could hardly feel the worrying weight that had burdened her every waking moment and haunted her dreams. She could count on things to be taken care of at home after a hard day’s work at the firm—dinner made, house cleaned, happy hubby, and happy boys. She was even finding more time to be home, even shutting off her phone afterhours which rekindled an intimacy that had lain dormant for quite some time. They shared tender moments again. They had sex almost nightly, and passionately made love at least once a week.

The boys were happier too. They fought and screamed less, and they no longer recoiled at the sound of Jacob’s voice. They pleaded for his bedtime stories, as they once had, and he obliged. He had endless tales about his assignments;
missions
, he called them. He wove wonderful tales, adding sound effects to enhance his detailed narration.

Doug and Tim became new additions to the family, like pets which the boys enjoyed torturing. They would stop in while on their way to and from assignments, and for the occasional pizza dinner. Sarah was pleasantly surprised when Jacob asked her about inviting Doug and Tim over to the house for a Sunday cookout and a few beers. The boys were enthralled by Doug—“
He’s a giant,
”
Luke exclaimed as Nathan poked at the massive thigh that stood in front of them.

Tim made his entrée as only a sniper of his caliber would, swiftly and silently blending into the background like a wallflower. He was happy to let Doug have the babysitting duties while he enjoyed a mint julip and chatted with Sarah and the neighborhood wives.

The hours passed, each more fruitless than the previous. William’s mind was numbed by age and use, and his body dragged on it like an anchor, but he resolved to find the solution. William looked at the clock hoping that his weary eyes were deceiving him. It was 4 a.m. He had toiled the night away, and still
nothing
. There was no way to make Lilith any safer. He was desperate. He would have to sabotage his own work, but at least it would buy him some valuable time.

“Isaac, please bring me the secondary Lilith samples,” he called out to his assistant.

Isaac responded over the laboratory intercom questioning the odd request. “Dr. LaPierre, do you want the secondary samples?”

“Yes.”

“Dr. LaPierre, they’ve already been prepared for disposal. I believe they’re down in the incineration room, if not already destroyed.”

“Well then,
goddamn it
find out!”

“Yes, of course.” Isaac was still confused but his life as a post-doc research fellow was one of constant confusion. He was a glorified
gofer,
going for this, going for that. It was not what he had imagined that his last three years of research would be like, but Dr. LaPierre was a highly respected researcher, and though his work was on the leading edge of molecular biology and biopharmacology, his mental faculties were not. It was depressing that the old man had come to this, but Isaac had to get as much as he could from the position before he jumped ship. He should have done it six months ago when he had extended his research funding, not because he’d wanted to stay, but because his prospects were, like his social-life, nonexistent.

Isaac trudged down the long corridor to the adjoining biohazard disposal room. The effort was made that much more laborious because he had to follow the strict safety protocols. He had to don all of the safety gear including the moonsuit—he hated the moonsuit. It smelled of fresh plastic, no doubt the volatile-organic-compounds would kill him just as dead as anything in the lab, but it would take quite a bit longer, and be much more torturous. He was also a bit of a claustrophobe, and the stress that elevated his heart rate didn’t help him breathe any better inside the stifling, hooded suit.
Where was the blasted secondary batch?
Isaac was starting to feel the walls collapse in on him and he was sweating profusely which fogged up the suit’s visor.

His parents were right. What was he thinking? He hated the drudgery of lab life. There was nothing about it that he enjoyed, and he hardly ever left. He longed to be back on his family’s winery in Lodi. His parents were crazy yuppies who had tired of the urban life, and had bought themselves the winery, in true dot-comer fashion, back in 1997. They brought their tech savvy, their vegan fare, and their organic-living sentimentalities, to include a stout anti-vaccination fervor, to the foothills, and despite all of that, they had prospered. Isaac however, had revolted long ago. He ate meat almost exclusively, and he didn’t bother washing fruits and vegetables before eating them, lest he remove the pesticides. He hated needles, and so he’d never been able to commit the most heinous act of revolution: vaccination. He had also chosen his field of study out of spite. But now he was paying for his insolence, and he had been for quite some time.

Finally, he found the missing batch. Another post-doc had been too lazy to incinerate it before leaving home for the night. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief which he immediately regretted as the moonsuit’s visor was occluded by a film of water vapor. At least he wouldn’t have to return empty handed, he thought. Isaac opened the incineration container which was reinforced to ensure that none of the subject material escaped full immolation. Four vials of secondary Lilith samples sat undisturbed in the container. Isaac moved as quickly as he dared, walking across the disposal room to where the delivery-chute was located. He inserted the samples one at a time and activated the transport system. The samples were propelled through the system by a gentle impulse of magnetic force which carried them gently into the laboratory next door.

Isaac exited the disposal room and removed his safety clothing, only to have to repeat the entire process before entering the laboratory.
He hated his life!

Minutes later he entered the main lab, “Dr. LaPierre, I have your secondary samples.”

William looked at the four vials that Isaac held in his hands. “Where are the rest?”

“I’m sorry, Dr. LaPierre, that’s all there are. The other samples were already incinerated.” He assumed that last part because the other post-doc had also forgotten to complete the disposal log.

“Well I need more, much more.” William cursed his luck. “Well then, sit down Isaac. You’re going to be here a while. I know you’ve been grumbling about your lack of opportunities here, so this is your chance to actually do something worthwhile. Maybe you can use this experience to get yourself a
real
research position?”

Isaac freaked. He’d used those exact words earlier in the week when he was chatting with some of the other post-docs. He was mortified. “I’m sorry…Dr. LaPierre…” he mumbled, but William waved him off.

“Listen Isaac, I was once a young guy like you, and I talked crap about the old man when I was at my first lab, so I get it. How about you just sit down and help me out now? If you do, I will write you the best letter of recommendation so that you can get out of here.” Isaac agreed. “Good. We need to generate a lot more of these Lilith batches for delivery. How do you propose we do that with forty-eight hours to go, and without the use of mice?”

Isaac stared at the vials for only a minute before his breakthrough idea came to him. He placed three of the vials down on the lab table in front of them, and held on to one as a smile crawled across his face.
Did he dare?
He did, and he stuck it to his parents as well, driving the proverbial stake into their yuppie ideologies. He grinned broadly as he set down the now empty vial. He had just made his irrefutable contribution to science.