emphatically. “I know you. And
I’ve heard what others say about you. Do you know that behind your back they
call you Dr. Einstein. They think that because I’m blind I can’t hear, but I
do.”
“That’s just
foolish banter.” said Ethyl.
“No, it’s not,”
replied Daniel. “They know you and they respect you. If anyone can do this,
it’s you. Now please − take the chance. I want to see more than anything.
It’s worth the risk. You’ve already done all the work−it’s time, Aunt
Ethyl. Put your genius to the test!”
* * * *
It was dark in
the lab with the exception of the overhead lamps that illuminated the operating
table where Daniel lay. It was what Ethyl wanted. No one else was to be
involved with what was about to transpire. She had even dismissed the night
watch, telling them to take the night off. This was to be her affair and hers
alone.
Dressed in
hospital garb, like a surgeon operating behind a mask and cap she injected
Daniel with a mild sedative, wishing him pleasant dreams as he faded into
unconsciousness.
She then went to
work.
Chapter 6
Nanite by Nanite
The night air was
cold as Mickey drove down from San Francisco to San Jose. It was getting late
and he wasn’t quite sure where he was going. He had already been forced to make
two stops, one for a gun and some coke, the other for a knife. The first he got
from a friend of a friend whom he did time with in Indiana, the other from a
Big 5 sporting goods store. The gun was a Kimber semi-automatic with the serial
numbers filed off and a silencer that cost him sixteen hundred cash; the knife
was a six-inch fixed blade buck knife used for skinning and gutting deer. He
would have preferred an eight inch blade, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he
figured it would slice and dice just as easy.
Using the GPS on
his phone, Mickey found Dr. Curry’s office on Jackson Street; a two-story
medical building not far off the freeway. He pulled in and checked out the
place, looking to see if there were any security cameras or alarms−as
luck would have it there were, three of them. He cursed. How was he going to
get in and find Daniel Raye’s address? He couldn’t afford to get caught or
leave a trail−not now. It was then that fate stepped in; a van pulled
into the parking lot. Mickey noted the signage on its side. It was a janitorial
service−Dury Cleaners Home & Office. Mickey glanced at his watch. It
was nearly 10 PM, and he wondered how long it would take to clean this
place− a couple hours maybe. He snorted some coke and waited.
It was almost
1:30 by the time the guy finished cleaning the offices of Dr. Curry. Mickey
watched as the maintenance guy loaded his equipment back into the van. After
locking up the office he climbed into the van and filled out some paperwork. He
then left with Mickey following behind at a safe distance.
Thirty-five
minutes later and a good twenty miles across town Dury Cleaners made its next
stop−another office building. This one was smaller and older−it
backed up against a hillside, providing Mickey the opportunity he needed. The
place was dark and remote, and Mickey knew he was unlikely to be seen on camera−if
there were any at all. He took the semi out and attached the silencer, put
gloves on, and while his intended victim was occupied getting his cleaning
equipment out of the van, Mickey snuck up behind him. Without a word he capped
the maintenance guy from behind with a bullet to the head splattering his
brains across the inside of the van. The sound of the gun’s report was loud,
louder than Mickey expected. Silencers were never what they made out on TV, but
there was no response from anywhere in the neighborhood and the guy never knew
what hit him. He collapsed in a heap halfway into the van−Mickey shoved
him the rest of the way, but not before first grabbing the van keys and the
guy’s wallet.
Mickey drove the
van to the closest bar he could
I’ve heard what others say about you. Do you know that behind your back they
call you Dr. Einstein. They think that because I’m blind I can’t hear, but I
do.”
“That’s just
foolish banter.” said Ethyl.
“No, it’s not,”
replied Daniel. “They know you and they respect you. If anyone can do this,
it’s you. Now please − take the chance. I want to see more than anything.
It’s worth the risk. You’ve already done all the work−it’s time, Aunt
Ethyl. Put your genius to the test!”
* * * *
It was dark in
the lab with the exception of the overhead lamps that illuminated the operating
table where Daniel lay. It was what Ethyl wanted. No one else was to be
involved with what was about to transpire. She had even dismissed the night
watch, telling them to take the night off. This was to be her affair and hers
alone.
Dressed in
hospital garb, like a surgeon operating behind a mask and cap she injected
Daniel with a mild sedative, wishing him pleasant dreams as he faded into
unconsciousness.
She then went to
work.
Chapter 6
Nanite by Nanite
The night air was
cold as Mickey drove down from San Francisco to San Jose. It was getting late
and he wasn’t quite sure where he was going. He had already been forced to make
two stops, one for a gun and some coke, the other for a knife. The first he got
from a friend of a friend whom he did time with in Indiana, the other from a
Big 5 sporting goods store. The gun was a Kimber semi-automatic with the serial
numbers filed off and a silencer that cost him sixteen hundred cash; the knife
was a six-inch fixed blade buck knife used for skinning and gutting deer. He
would have preferred an eight inch blade, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he
figured it would slice and dice just as easy.
Using the GPS on
his phone, Mickey found Dr. Curry’s office on Jackson Street; a two-story
medical building not far off the freeway. He pulled in and checked out the
place, looking to see if there were any security cameras or alarms−as
luck would have it there were, three of them. He cursed. How was he going to
get in and find Daniel Raye’s address? He couldn’t afford to get caught or
leave a trail−not now. It was then that fate stepped in; a van pulled
into the parking lot. Mickey noted the signage on its side. It was a janitorial
service−Dury Cleaners Home & Office. Mickey glanced at his watch. It
was nearly 10 PM, and he wondered how long it would take to clean this
place− a couple hours maybe. He snorted some coke and waited.
It was almost
1:30 by the time the guy finished cleaning the offices of Dr. Curry. Mickey
watched as the maintenance guy loaded his equipment back into the van. After
locking up the office he climbed into the van and filled out some paperwork. He
then left with Mickey following behind at a safe distance.
Thirty-five
minutes later and a good twenty miles across town Dury Cleaners made its next
stop−another office building. This one was smaller and older−it
backed up against a hillside, providing Mickey the opportunity he needed. The
place was dark and remote, and Mickey knew he was unlikely to be seen on camera−if
there were any at all. He took the semi out and attached the silencer, put
gloves on, and while his intended victim was occupied getting his cleaning
equipment out of the van, Mickey snuck up behind him. Without a word he capped
the maintenance guy from behind with a bullet to the head splattering his
brains across the inside of the van. The sound of the gun’s report was loud,
louder than Mickey expected. Silencers were never what they made out on TV, but
there was no response from anywhere in the neighborhood and the guy never knew
what hit him. He collapsed in a heap halfway into the van−Mickey shoved
him the rest of the way, but not before first grabbing the van keys and the
guy’s wallet.
Mickey drove the
van to the closest bar he could
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