A Journey Begun - Chapter 15 - A Crime Most Ruthless
#19 of Saga the First - Book One - A Journey Begun
Part 2 of the Boston arc!
I sat next to his bed. He looked a mess, still unconscious with all these weird tubes coming out of him, all these machines beeping and booping away, while my friend fought for his life, the same way I'd fought for his.
The moment I saw the group of thugs around him I knew he was in trouble. Me and my sister, we charged right in there, fists flying, sent those assholes running. We found him lying in a heap on the sidewalk, bleeding from a dozen places, eyes rolled up in his head, lifeless. I tried to get him to wake up while Alex called nine-one-one, but he didn't budge. Now he was in this sterile place and I couldn't do anything about it. It felt like Manhattan all over again, and I felt helpless. I barely noticed my sister sitting down next to me, her hand on my shoulder.
"They did everything they could, Dylan. He'll live, don't worry."
"But I am worried, Alex. Once he gets out, what'll happen? Will he get attacked again? I don't wanna risk it."
She frowned and ran a hand through my hair.
"We'll figure something out, Dylan."
"Yeah," I smiled grimly. "we will."
I left her by his bedside and got out of the hospital. It was stuffy, crowded, and I needed some fresh air. The day was still young, but I felt like ages had passed since. I pulled a pack of Malboros from my pocket, fished a stick out and lit it, felt the smoke caress my lungs like a lover would. I'd told Alex I'd try to quit smoking, but if I was off tobacco then my hand reached for the bottle, it was either or for me, not both, not neither. I took another pull from my cigarette and stopped; someone was looking at me from across the carpark. Lady. Looked official. She approached me and I stubbed out my stick under my heel, making her give me a dirty look as she got close.
"It's a crime to smoke in a hospital."
"Well I'm outside the hospital babs so sue me, now make it quick, I got things to do."
She frowned.
"Are you Dylan Hayes?"
"Yeah, I am, what's it to you?"
She flipped open her wallet and I saw a glimpse of a badge.
"Detective Emma Rodriguez, I need you to come into the office for some questions."
"Well I ain't done nothing, sugar cheeks so you can lay off."
I turned to head back inside.
"It's about your friend."
I stopped and turned, slowly.
"What friend?"
"Agent Anderson?"
She brushed an invisible speck of dirt from her jacket.
"Look, he asked me to bring you in because he thought you could help."
"When?"
"Yesterday, way before the attack."
"Tell me more."
"Later, in the station. It's not safe on the street."
I merely nodded. Alex wouldn't mind. I'd tell her later.
"So you're telling me you had all this information and you didn't tell us earlier?!"
"We only received it yesterday, shortly after he offered your assistance."
"Still, it would've been fucking nice to know sooner rather than later! Jesus woman, what's wrong with you people?!"
I was pissed. Not only were they keeping secrets, they were secrets we could've used a whole lot sooner. Then maybe all this shit didn't have to go down. The detective apparently didn't like my anger.
"Settle down, Hayes! We were only just in a position to approach you when the attack happened today."
"Really?"
"He was on his way to contact you when he was hit. We didn't even know it until your sister called the police."
That was true. I didn't see anyone else calling the police before we got there.
"Well, show me what you got. And this better be worth it."
She placed a manila folder in front of me and I opened it. I saw a list of names and pages of faces that I didn't immediately recognise. I cocked a brow and looked at her. She took the folder and separated the pages, placing the sheet of names in front of me first. I saw that the list was divided into two columns of names and each column had its own name, like a title.
"This is of names we've compiled of active members of the two street gangs that are involved in the war on your neighbourhood streets. We want to see if you recognise any. The papers with faces on them are connected to the name list, so if you don't recognise their name immediately you can have a face to go with that name."
I nodded and skimmed over the list. Jesus I saw what the lady meant, this thing was huge. But I saw a few names I thought I recognised, and as I joined the dots between name and face more became clear. Whenever I had clear memory of someone, the detective told me to write down everything I knew about the guy or girl on this pad of paper she gave. I don't how much time went by, but when I was done, about a third of the pad was all scribbling. I was done, my brain was tired and so was I. Detective sugartits took a look through my notes and nodded.
"I think that's enough to go on for now, mister Hayes. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Nah man it's cool. I just wanna know what ya'll gonna do with it."
She took the papers and added them to the folder.
"We're going to arrest them, one at a time, then charge as many as we can in a court of law. Take as many of them off the street as we can, attract the attention of their leaders. Once the leadership's exposed, we'll take them down as well."
"Ain't that gonna take time?"
"Yes, mister Hayes, but the time is to ensure the authenticity of the information, and then to work on it to achieve an arrest."
"Why don't you guys just go in for the kill? Like, go at 'em head on. That be something they can't ignore."
She shook her head.
"Too many unnecessary risks to our men.
"Aw hell woman no one made an omelette without breaking a few eggs. Way I learned it in the streets, taking your time like that ain't gonna get you anywhere."
She rested her hands on the table and interlaced her fingers.
"Well this isn't the street, mister Hayes, we do things our way, like it or not."
This wasn't going to help. I was getting sick of how disinterested these people were. I had to step in.
Somehow.
Later, I walked down the steps of the station and lit another stick. The police here were god damn annoying. Thankfully that chick let me off without a fuss, otherwise I'd still be in there rotting my ass off. Then my phone rang. Without thinking I flipped it open and answered.
"Yo."
"Dylan Hayes?"
The voice was young, a guy, one I didn't recognise.
"Who's askin'?"
"A friend. Listen, I hear you're in a bit of a predicament."
I shrugged, even though I knew the guy, whoever he was, couldn't see it.
"No shit. My best friend's in the hospital and there's nothing I can do."
"Well what if I told you I have a way to let you do something about that?"
Hmm. I took my stick and held it in my off hand. This might be good.
"Consider my interest piqued, mister whoever-you-are."
"I can get you that list."
For a moment I was confused about what list, then I remembered the list I'd gone through in the station.
"Yeah?" Apprehensive. "What about it?"
"I have my methods of getting it to you. I know how much you'd love to get your hands on it."
That was very true. Originally I'd thought of stealing it, but those days were behind me. "Yeah, well get to the point."
"You know where the University is?"
How could I not? Miskatonic was the biggest damn school in the whole city. Down by the river, it was built way back in the 1870s, way before our time. Hosted a whole buttload of scholarships and such. If you didn't know about Miskatonic, you were from outta town. Or not a reader of Lovecraft.
"Yeah?"
"Go there, go to the library, say you're there to look for materials online. Get to a computer. Then call this number again."
The voice hung up and I was left confused, but I understood his instructions. The place wasn't far, I could get there in two shakes of a cat's tail. I broke into a jog and made my way there, earbuds in my ears.
The university building was huge. It took up nearly two whole blocks, the place was massive enough to even have a planeta-what's-it, one of those things the fancy types use to look at the stars. It was right in the center of the university, but the library was in the West Wing. I made my way there and went inside. These guys weren't strict on security, apparently, I just waltzed in and no one paid any mind. The library clerk didn't really care but she pointed out a computer, one past a huge array of shelves. I gave her a nod and she kinda waved at me before returning to chewing her gum and reading her magazine. Slowly I made my way to the computer begins the shelves and sat down. It was already on and on the desktop, so I took out my phone and called the number. Within seconds the guy answered.
"You at a computer?"
"Yeah."
I kept my voice low. This was a library, after all, and I had manners, a little bit anyway.
"Good, now place your phone next to it."
Huh? What was this bozo thinking?
"You want me to what?"
"Never mind about the call, just put your phone next to the computer. I'll do the rest."
Grudgingly I placed my phone next to the monitor. Suddenly I saw a spiral thing appear on my phone, and a window popped up on the computer screen, with a jumble of words and numbers. I saw a progress bar appear underneath the window and as I waited, it filled slowly. I heard the guy's voice from my phone's speaker.
"Give it a while, go wander around or something. Come back here in, like, five minutes?"
Well okay if that's what you wanted mister smarty pants. I stood, stretched and l moved off.
Damn this place was huge. I don't know how long I spent lost in the shelves, but then I found a book that I knew of. I pulled the thick volume out of the shelf and read the title softly to myself.
"The Art of War and the 13 Strategems, by Sun Zi, the Great Strategist."
I knew the book a little. My _shifu _liked to quote it a lot. He told us when we were younger that the book held much wisdom in its pages, and that the strategies and concepts in it could be applied to everyday life struggled as well. I never really understood what that meant, though my sister did, but I kinda recall him testing us on it as well. Wasn't fun to get a beating from him if we couldn't remember a sentence or a strategy from it. I opened the book and gave it a skim, but I grew so engrossed by it that I didn't notice the man standing next to me until he tapped me on the shoulder. I started and almost lobbed the book at him.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Not quite, my son, but he and I used to be on good terms. And still are."
The man that looked me back and smiled was old, like, real old. He had a blue wool sweater on over a white shirt and beige slacks and shoes. Grey hair and wrinkles at his eyes. Glasses. The guy looked like he could calm Niagra Falls by just smiling at it. He had a phone in his hand, my phone, and he held it out to me.
"Your cellphone, son. It was beeping at that terminal, and it said something about something being finished. I saw you leave earlier so I guessed it was yours."
I took the phone from him and smiled sheepishly back.
"Thanks pops."
He smiled wide and nodded.
"No thanks necessary, my son."
We stood there a second. Awkward. Then he gestured to the book in my hand.
"Sun Zi?"
"Hm? Oh yeah, him. Yeah, my old master used to love him."
"Your old master?"
"I was under an old master for a while. Old Chinese fella with a beard that damn near touched the floor. Taught me kung fu and all that shi- ah, jazz. Used to have a copy of this on his table every day next to his teapot. After the old coot passed on, we buried it with him."
He nodded and placed a hand gently on my shoulder. It felt warm and fuzzy and for some reason I just didn't want to leave.
"I understand, my son. There is much wisdom to be gleaned from old tomes such as this. Your master was a very wise man."
"Yeah, just wished I had some a' those smarts myself. Would make dealing with my, uh, current problems a little easier."
He nodded and smiled, before gesturing to a pair of chairs nearby.
"Care to sit and tell me, my son?"
Somehow I couldn't say no.
"So that's your friend that appeared in the news?"
"That's right, pops. The police are dealing with the case but they're dragging their feet. I don't like it."
"Good things take time, child. Patience, after all, is a virtue."
"Yeah well my patience is running a little god damn thin, if ya catch my drift."
"Hush now, child. His name is not one to use in vain."
"Sorry pops, I'm just... I've had it up to here with these bureaucratic types! I hate sitting on my ass. I want to take action!"
I sighed and held my face in my hands. I was frustrated all right. Angry too. These idiots were holding out on my friend, a friend of mine that could order these guys to shine his shoes for all he cared. I was just so angry that I couldn't do anything to help him. The man placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, and I don't know what it was but I felt warmer, calmer, almost instantly.
"It's alright, child. I understand how you feel. When I was a young man, just like you, I was the same. I wanted to learn, to do things, I couldn't sit still at all. But after I discovered His graces, I found that by having patience and going through things slowly and with understanding, I could accomplish even the hardest tasks that I set my mind to. A focus like this is hard to come by in today's youth, so it's heartening to see a young man such as yourself to have such passion, especially for a friend in distress. For you see, passion, though rare, is nothing compared to the compassion and kindness in your heart. It is something I actually envy and wish I had in my youth."
I felt my cheeks flush.
"T-thanks pops. Though...I still don't know how I'm going to help my friend."
"With patience, child. Remember, this virtue is treasured by those who have it, and very much sought after by many. Even your master's muse, Sun Zi, displayed such patience during his time as a commanding general in his king's army. Without it, he would've never written this book, and your master would not have been the man he was to teach you the things he did, that I'm sure you still treasure today. With patience and focus, you can achieve many things."
He smiled and I felt... I don't know, this calming effect just go through me. I wanted to sit here, talk with him more, but I had things to do. I stood.
"Thanks for the chat pops, but I gotta roll. Mind if I, uh, borrow this?"
I held up the book and he nodded, smiling.
"Of course, child. And if you need someone to talk to, I'll be here."
He gave me a small white business card. On it was printed, in simple text, a name, an address, a phone number and a slogan. '(Ret.) Reverend Warren Archer. Counsellor and teacher. Available on weekdays. Help ease thy troubled soul.'
Huh. Pops used to be a priest. No wonder he was so...experienced at things like this. I said goodbye and left, book in hand. I returned to the dojo and found the door locked, so I used my key and went in. Guess Alex wasn't home yet. I went upstairs and threw myself down on the couch. I felt drained. Didn't want to move. Then my phone buzzed in my pocket, so I took it out to have a look. Same unknown number was calling me again, so I picked up.
"Yo."
"Did you get the file?"
File?
Flashback. The library. Computer. My phone.
"Yeah."
"Good, well, good luck on your hunt. Give my regards to your friend. I'd join you but I'm no good with fieldwork. Call me again if you need anything, a friend of Daniel is a friend of mine."
"But what do I call you?"
"Just call me Max."
A while later I was sprawled on the couch, dusting sandwich crumbs off my shirt as I stared at my phone. The file that he'd sent me was the list the police chick had, just like Max had promised. Using the list I jotted down several names and addresses. I commited their names and faces to memory; these were the idiots I was going to hunt down later. With rap sheets longer than my arm and faces only a mother could love, these few men were men I knew; they were in the same group of Saints that had sent Daniel into the hospital. The hunters were now gonna become the hunted, but I had to come up with an action plan that could nail them all at once. Shock and awe. They'd never see it coming and I'd get revenge. And that was just the start; with this info I could tear a hole the size of Washington state in the Third Street Saints. Then after that, I'd start on Those Men, then their whole operation upside down and inside out. Drive them out of Boston and make sure they never came back. Yeah. Hell yeah.
Before I knew it I had a bottle of beer in my hand, open and half empty. My phone and several papers were scattered on the coffee table, all full of writing and notes. I had everything I needed to go all Bruce Lee on their asses.
Tomorrow. Tonight, rest. I needed it.
The stage was set. The lead actor in place. All it needed was the rest of the cast to arrive and the shoot could commence. The scene? A brutal beat down on the banks of the river. The motivation? A dear friend, sent into the hospital by people most foul and undesirable, scum of the earth that needed a good lesson in humility. Their motivation? A threat, an open challenge issued to them on YouTube by a masked man, declaring them cowards for using underhanded methods to achieve their goals. The man challenged them to a fight most unbalanced and unfair! Him, on his lonesome, against the same group that he had witnessed committing a crime most ruthless. The time and place already determined in the video, it was only a matter of time until the challenge was to be met. And the time was soon, for roughly twenty minutes from the expected deadline, the men were there, on the bank of the river, milling about nervously, dressed in the colours of the group the represented; the purple and black regalia of the Third Street Saints. There they waited, anxious and angry, hungry for the blood of their antagonist, the masked man, but their worries were unfounded, for at the exact time stated in the challenge, there he appeared, sauntering over the hill with his mask in one hand and a bottle in the other. He stood right at the top of the hill and popped the cap off the bottle of liquid gold and drank from it, not stopping until the whole bottle was empty, its contents within him, burning his very essence with a fire so strong, it was almost unquenchable. The bottle was thrown away and the mask discarded, and Dylan Hayes burped and steadied himself.
"So, which one of you jackasses wants to die first?"
Meanwhile, in a nearby hospital, a man awoke from his slumber. He got gently to his feet and limped slowly to the bathroom, avoiding the lady slumped in the chair next to his bed. His business done, he limped slowly back and laid down. The night was still young, but he was tired and drained. The operation had been a long one, and he was still feeling the effects of the anaesthesia he'd been under for the past few hours.
The doctors had later told him, after he'd been awake long enough to regain his bearings, that if he'd been late to the hospital by roughly one more minute, he would've died from the blood loss. Thanks to the prompt intervention provided by the two passers-by that had scared off attackers and sent him straight to the hospital, he wouldn't be alive. He'd later thanked both the doctors and his friends profusely, although they'd all been humble about it. He promised his two friends that he'd treat them to dinner once he was our and their business was settled, but until then he had to rest until he was better, no questions asked, no complaints. Grudgingly he'd agreed to their terms and here he was, resting off injuries that would heal in three days where it would normally take weeks. That was the power he had, one he couldn't tell anyone about.
Daniel Anderson sighed and drew the covers up around himself, unaware of his best friend's imminent date with death.