For some weeks now, I wracked my brain over that UGO scandal, trying to find some real trace of the hacker’s whereabouts. I was good, but this level of anonymity was godlike. In actuality, I found many traces, hundreds of them, from practically every country to exist. I know he didn’t leave the country at that time, but that doesn’t mean the hacker was in the country. Narrowing down and eliminating the search was what I really did all this time, until a call came through.
The voice, a calm and clear one, asked of my identity, but after my silence it spoke again, “I’m TEO field captain, Ferris Andino, an–”
“Andino?” I asked, finding it funny at first but shrugging it off as mere coincidence.
“Y-yes, you were my brother’s student at school, it seems. He’s told me about you. But enough of that, we have bigger problems, and I’m afraid they share a similar nature to the previous time we met.”
Of course, nothing went smoothly in my search for Cennet, but it looked like an opportunity to anchor onto a lead presented itself. “Send your location,” I told him and zoomed over to the other side of the city.
Outside the building, Ferris waited for me. “Did he specifically call for me again?” I inquired of the TEO, referring to Cennet. He shook his head, “We did. He does have hostages again though, so we’re in a bit of a pinch.”
“Did you locate them?”
“No, my team is working to secure that information now,” he told me, slowing down a bit as we walked past a room. There were some people inside, gloom quite present on their faces.
I ceased right there, “Why am I here?”
Ferris stopped, “Don’t worry, we’re not putting you in danger, not again. We got enough flak from the higher-ups for that move.” He turned around, his hairy arms folding into each other, “I just want you to talk to my team; figured you might know why he’s still doing this.”
Those thoughts permeated my attentiveness and made me an aloof husk every so often throughout the days, wondering if Cennet’s vengeance was satiated with my parents’ death, with my suffering. Of course, if the answer was no, then Anna was the next obvious target, which I absolutely rued. But, to think he’d target completely unrelated people after shaking my world as much as he did, made me conclude a couple things.
“He’s either got some grandiose plan,” a fellow stated, nearing us with a strong-scented brew of coffee in his hand, “or, he’s still not over what happened to his kid,” and took a sip, “in both instances we’d have to worry. He’s already proven his cunning,” the lanky man pointed out, which I knew all too well.
Ferris kept a little quiet, and only switched eyes occasionally from the young mind to me. I guess this was the main person he wanted me to speak with. “Psychologist?” I asked the towering man.
“Something like that. Child genius?” he countered, somewhat.
“Ha,” I gave a one-off laugh drenched in sarcasm, “nothing like that. What did you want to know?”
“The exact materials you need to make the TS,” another said, this one a stark contrast to the brown-skinned, lean criminal psychologist.
“Tech guy?”
“Perhaps,” he said, crunching down on the last bit of his lollipop. Quite the eclectic group of individuals, Ferris certainly had his hands full with their confidence.
“Agent Sean Murray,” Ferris pointed at the well-dressed and immaculately groomed psychologist, “and agent Randy Mortiere,” then at the unkempt, chubby technician, “they’re basically married,” he joked.
According to the technician’s question just now, it looked like they’d been digging up in the zeroes and ones of UGO, using their persistent molars to grind as much information into one sensible whole.
“So, you hacked UGO,” I mentioned to Randy, “I’ll have to tighten our security.” Sean laughed, turned his back and walked into a room, knowing I caught his friend’s slip of tongue when he mentioned the TS. After all, UGO never revealed the TS was something they made.
We entered a separate room and there was yet another person waiting there. Just from the way she carried herself, she was a clear no-nonsense pain in the ass that Ferris was probably forced into letting join the fray. She remained seated even at our arrival, and totally ignored a simple gesture for a handshake. Her eyes were kept buried into a file, screening through pages and didn’t afford me the time of day. “Sit down, kid. I want full disclosure on every piece of tech UGO has and all their R&D on–”
That was all I heard her say before I walked out and closed the door. “Wait!” Ferris called out, walking briskly after me, “Wait,” he grabbed my arm, “are you really going to walk out on those people?” he pointed to the families of the kidnapped.
“I’m not walking out on them,” I replied, “I have my own methods. Besides, that woman intends for this to be a one-sided partnership. Her bullshit intimidation tactics won’t work on me. Not only do you hack UGO, but you expect me to divulge information as if your fingers weren’t already in our servers. Until she’s off this case, the TEO gets no help from me. And after today you won’t be able to access UGO anymore. Now please, let go of me,” I asked of him, but he didn’t. In fact, his grip tightened.
“You know,” he said softly and broke off eye-contact, “when you join places like the TEO, you become unhinged from society. There’s an air of bravado that comes over you. You think you’re indestructible, above the normal sheep.”
What was he getting at?
“You think you’re invincible,” he finally let go, “and that might be right, but then something comes along every now and then to remind you that you can be broken indirectly.”
“Get to the point,” I edged him on to end this conversation.
“He has my niece. I cannot,” he emphasised, “let anything happen to her. So please, help me find her.”
“The number you called me on, is that your personal phone?” I inquired, removing the headgear from my neck and placing it over my head. He squinted in confusion and nodded. “I’ll contact you if I get anything new. What’s her name?”
“Cindy. Andino.”
With that, I left back to my lab, and played a video that haunted my dreams for weeks on end. I leaned forward, sitting on the edge of the chair and rested my elbows on my legs. Fifteen minutes later, I was at the murder site, caution tape still running along the middle of the room. The little coffee table was the only thing there. I spent a while in the abandoned flat, looking for something, anything. There was nothing there – or so I thought – when I turned around to leave, my footstep sounded a little, different. I backpedalled, with louder, smaller steps, and found a certain part of the floor seemed hollow. At the corner of the room, I upturned the carpet and found a small cellar door with a note taped onto it.
‘Love brings life, and hatred, death.’ A simple message, yet the word ‘Ban’ below tossed me into a conundrum and made me look at the note in a totally new light. What’s he talking about? I pondered, pulling the string switch hanging near the entrance of the basement for some light. On the sole table inside the dimly lit room, was yet another note reading, ‘But sometimes, hatred brings life, and love brings death.’
The thought alone that I had to endure this man’s madness pushed me away from deciphering these cryptic notes. Glimpses of an ugly, detestable side of me flickered a few times each day, increasing in frequency as time went by. Flickering images of a still Cennet, and a bloody Z-21. These vengeful emotions I wanted to bury kept inching closer to the surface each day.
Flipping the note over, there was the number eight written on it, which made these already horrible clues even worse. I called it a day and returned to work. The next couple days I picked my brains out, examining the curvature of every line, the words, the meaning of the notes Cennet left behind. On the verge of giving up, was when I noticed something interesting. An ambulance from a private medical facility with a rather intriguing logo. It drove by as I watched from the balcony, sipping my bitter evening coffee. I looked down at the paper, then up at the van. My eyes opened wider as realisation set in.
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I was holding it wrong the whole time! I sighed mentally and rotated the paper. It wasn’t the number eight, it was an infinity symbol, the very symbol used as the logo of the private hospital. How likely would it be that the private-run hospital had any sliver of connection to that madman? There’s no way, I thought, but I was weak to the temptation of curiosity. Quickly, I succumbed to the urge of ruling out every possibility and checked up on all three major hospitals under the name Boundless Hope. Hmm? My eyes scanned the text wrapping around an image of the closed-down clinic ran by the same company. The article was too long to cope with, and so I scrolled through, inhaling only the keywords and ensuring my memory tasted it thoroughly.
Later that night, I ventured there with my TK, opting out of a speedy course in favour of discreet manoeuvres through the old parking lot. The place was eerily dark, planting a discomposingly paranoid seed of hesitance as I climbed atop a dumpster and latched onto an outside iron staircase. Afterwards, getting access was a simple matter of carefully slicing the rooftop door’s lock open and making my way down the dusty, cobweb-ridden stairs. The top floor was mainly empty offices, records management rooms, and storage rooms. It was dark and lifeless. What was I expecting? I asked myself and turned around to creep back out, but there was a quiet muffled sound coming from the very stairs I just came from. Something was on the bottom floor.
I snuck downwards, slowly, and noticed a dim light emanating far down the hall. Hugging the walls, I made my way towards that one room. “Ugh, shut her up, will you?” someone’s voice swerved out the open room. I peeped, and noticed someone strapped onto a bed, tightly, almost as if they wanted the belts to stop the person’s blood flow. What the hell…
Another man was there, clothed in a scrub and mask. “Thanks,” he said, after his colleague injected the fidgeting woman with something that put her to sleep.
“How did patient nine go?”
“Bad. I think the dosage might be too strong,” he said, flicking the syringe and spilling a little out the needle, “I reduced the concentration for now. I don’t think number nine will make it. If she does, she’ll probably be comatose.”
“What do we do with her then? Should we get rid of her?”
The man stopped and thought, then looked up at his partner, “Nah, we need as much information on the reactions as possible, even the failures. When you get a chance, bring in number ten and eleven, will you?”
“Gotcha. I’m heading out for a bite after, you want anything?”
“Cheeseburger, two.”
The assistant began walking out the room, and I panicked a little. Shit, I looked around quickly, and spun around, going inside another dark room. The man walked by, the swishing of his scrub being the only proof of his passage as the sound of footsteps failed to touch my ears. He entered the room opposite the operation room the surgeon – or the mad scientist – was in. A sedated boy, probably around my age, was wheeled into the surgery room on a stretcher, and a minute after, a little girl.
I wasn’t completely sure if this hospital was connected to Cennet, nor was I sure if these ‘patients’ were the kidnap victims the TEOs were searching for, not until the assistant read out something on a clipboard. “Number ten, Jamie Alphonso. A little history of asthma but nothing to be concerned about. Safe. Number eleven, Cindy Andino. History of panic attacks. Diagnosed with depression after her brother died. Otherwise, safe.”
Right on the money, I thought, phoning Ferris Andino immediately. The first two tries went unanswered, but the third time, an angry girlfriend picked up, “Who the hell is this?! Ferris is busy!” she yelled, and hung up the phone.
You can’t be serious right now. I rang yet again, ignored. By then, the assistant made his way outside, probably for food. Persistence eventually won Ferris’ girl over, and she answered again, “Do you want his niece to die?!” I exclaimed, in a whispery voice before she had a chance to say anything, “No? Then put him on the damn phone!”
“Ferris speaking. Who’s this?”
“Ugo. I found the place, I confirmed your niece is here, or at least, the man about to operate on her did. It’s the old Boundless Hope clinic on the edge of the city. The guys should be on break now, I’ll send you my location. Do not cause a scene, I don’t want them to destroy anything we can use as evidence. Also, if you don’t reach in time, I’ll take action myself.”
“No, no, just hang back. I’ll get a few guys and meet you there,” he warned, a fair bit of worry in his voice.
“Fine.”
After a couple minutes, the surgeon came outside and lounged in the lobby, having a smoke. I breathed a sigh of relief and kicked back for a while. Fifteen minutes later, the assistant returned with a few bags of fast food. “Let’s dig in, aye?”
They ate in about half an hour and began getting ready to return to their duties. Where the hell is t–
Just when I was thinking where Ferris was, my phone vibrated from an incoming call.
“You close?” I answered.
“Sixty seconds. Everything good?” he asked, but before I could answer, I overheard one of them say, “Initial shot ready, let’s hurry up and go home.”
Damn, I was torn between what to do now. “I, don’t know, give me a sec.” I prowled towards the operation room and peered in. They had a few syringes lined up and ready, tapping the forearms to administer whatever vile concoction was in those plastic tubes. Well, I hit the countdown timer on three of my sleep grenades and threw them inside the room, sorry Ferris, I said to him mentally before slamming the door and locking the suspects inside.
“What the hell!” They banged on the door incessantly, pulling with all their might, but I stuck Z-21 inside the handlebars so they’d stay inside. After a minute or so, I looked through the transparent plastic in the door and saw their bodies collapsed atop each other. Ferris and his team were outside, apparently picking the lock on the front door, which I eventually just opened for them.
Three guns were pointing right at me when the door swung open, but Ferris told them I wasn’t the enemy in a hushed voice. “What the hell, Ugo?! Didn’t I say to stay still? Why are you at the front door?!”
I pointed back with my thumb, “They’re asleep. Any second later and they’d have injected her and another person with – I don’t know – something. I didn’t want to take the chance.”
His squad bound the two sleeping suspects. Ferris breathed relief, yet his features seemed to be fraught with worry anew. “They were sedated or something, plus my sleep grenades probably made it worse,” I spoke of the patients, “but they’re both breathing fine. They should be okay. There are other rooms with other patients who underwent experiments of some sort. We should probably keep our distance from them, in case we’re exposed to anything,” I advised.
At that point, I was at an impasse on whether to stay or make myself scarce. On one hand, I wanted very badly to peruse the deadened facility for any other clues Cennet might’ve left. On the other hand, my gut wrung itself inside out, telling me to leave; I should’ve listened. That audacious woman in charge of the case not only disappointed me with her mere presence, but had me detained for questioning as well, despite Ferris’ clear indication that I was not a suspect, instead the very person who pointed them to the kidnapped.
My wrists were tied, sitting in the back seat of an all-black SUV weaving through traffic. I got dumped in an interrogation room just like the two quacks, my gears taken away. She barged in a few minutes later, “What’re you doing, kid? Why were you at the scene?” she folded her arms and sat on the edge of the table, at the side of me. I really began despising this woman.
Silence intruded into the room for a while, almost fixating the onlookers’ attention to how much tension rose between us – that’s assuming anyone was even witnessing this interrogation through that haunting one-way glass. “I’ve done nothing but help this precinct – which, might I add, asked for assistance – why do you insist on focusing on me?”
“Who do I focus on then, Ugo?”
I squinted my eyes at that question, “How about the two suspects who were playing doctor? That’s a great place to start, don’t you think?”
She slammed her fist against the metal table and startled me, “Don’t be a smartass, boy! Yes, you know Cennet the best – assuming he’s behind this mess – but don’t you ever think you can run with the grownups. Either you help us from the side-line or bail out,” she got up, “I don’t want to see you mixed up in any of this again!” and stormed out the room.
What the hell just happened? I asked myself, not sure what her anger was directed at.
“Don’t let it get to ya, buddy,” Randy came in, lollipop in his mouth as usual, “she’s always cranky. You know, she probably hasn’t gotten any lately.”
Sean elbowed him in the side, “If I ever have kids, I’m not letting you near them,” he said to Randy, sighing wearily before he unlocked my cuffs. “He’s right though, Ugo. Don’t let her get to you. Her son died because he played hero during a stick-up. After that, she became notorious for being a bossy control freak and gives us crap for anything we do deviating even the slightest from policy. One-man teams are a thing of the past now.”
Ferris came in after a while with all my gear, and as natural as breathing, they began talking about the case. I zoned out for a while, not exactly thinking about anything, yet unable to focus on their conversation. There was a moment of clarity for me, yet that moment, by some stroke of illogic, managed to perplex me even more about my very own goals.
The thorny path? Or the oasis?
Those questions, to that very moment, still inflicted shards of doubt scattered about my mind. With some aloof movement, I equipped the shielders onto my forearms again, grabbing my other gears too.
Despite the irregularities of my life, I found that tonight stood out for some reason. “Did you do a headcount?” I inquired, somewhat breaking apart the flowing conversation amongst the three.
“Yeah, all the missing persons were found. Some are dead though,” Sean replied, removing his leg from a crossed position and leaning forward to really show his attentiveness to me. “Let me ask you a question, Ugo.” He interlaced his fingers and peered right at me, “What do you want?”
“From what?”
“From life.”
I paused, only just attaching the satchel of grenades to me. There was some silence, only the ambience of the air-conditioner having any say. A lot of different scenarios played out in my mind, some peaceful and loving, others gruesome and saturated in angst, and some a culmination of both. But, ultimately… “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging it off, “I’m thirteen, should I?”
“Come on. You engineered most of the successful products for UGO, and some for UGO Medical. You broke into security systems by yourself. You went through a lot of shit.” He paused just a little longer as if thinking twice about the words to follow, “You killed,” he pointed out, leaving an even longer period of silence for that fact to be engrained into the atmosphere. “Don’t tell me you don’t have even the smallest inkling of what you want.”
Of course, I do, I thought, finding his prying questions and unwanted comments to become a little irritating. “When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”