Cookie Cutter Man (9 page)

“I love you,” he whispered into her ear and meant it. She
said it back. Daniel wondered if somehow Jared was watching, or Lawrence Wills,
and something in him cracked enough for him to want to be rid of everything; to
be cleansed of agents and pigeon-cameras and ankle holsters for his back-up
piece. It cracked enough to let sour jets of nostalgia come running through and
make him wish that everything could be how it was when they first got together.

For now, he
did
believe what he told her; at that
glimmer in time he was done with the whole twisted business and all he needed
was her.

Soon they went to bed, and the feelings grew even stronger
after love was done and he lay there in the warmth of his own blankets with her
in his arms. The night wore on. She fell asleep, but he did not. He began to
rethink his options; he lost some of his resolve to sever contact with Jared
and the others, and he was unable to dam up those cracks with mortar of a
stronger kind. Echo rolled off his chest into a more natural sleeping position,
and still he lay awake. His body was exhausted but his mind kept spinning,
forever spinning like a mad top, just as awake now as he was after doing a
really fat line of coke, and he hadn’t touched the stuff since the night he’d
last sold to Gene. After what seemed like years, an eternity, the gray light of
the coming dawn began to seep through the blinds like the doubt seeping into
his mind, and it found him still lying wide awake, wondering what the day would
bring.

Things got better. Daniel went to his training sessions
every day, telling Echo he got a job telemarketing, and brought home a check
every other week. His stitches came out, and he mumbled a brisk and insincere
apology to Dr. Stanzliek. Afterward the doctor and Echo had another long talk.

Daniel’s marksmanship skills were exceptional, and he only
improved. Simon had been right, he wasn’t as accurate with a .45, but he was
getting there.

The search for Lawrence Wills went on, and Daniel got more
deeply involved with the cause on both emotional and philosophical levels. Here
was the face of injustice in the world, and he was with the people looking to
fight it. He finished the bottle of pills and found he didn’t need another one.

He still got headaches occasionally.

About three weeks after Echo’s cab ride, Daniel was laying
in bed on a Saturday morning when the phone rang. The shrill tone caught in his
ear like an audible fish hook and pulled him from the stream of
unconsciousness, out of the warm waters of sleep and into the cold waking
world. He’d been averaging about four hours sleep a night, but when the phone
awoke him he’d only been asleep for two.

“Hmm?”

“We got him.” It was Ebin.

“What?” Daniel asked, wide awake now.

“I said we got him. Get down here.” There was a click and
the line went dead.

“Fuck,” Daniel muttered.

Echo rolled over, voice thick with sleep. “Who izzit?”

“Work,” Daniel said, rolling out of bed. “They need me to
come in.”

“For what?”

“Training. They’re gonna promote me in a week or two.”

“Oh, baby that’s great. How come you didn’t tell me before?”
She sat up in bed and smiled as he dressed.

“I wanted to wait until it was official,” he lied again,
feeling a pang in the small of his conscience for doing so.

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “Maybe I’ll
still be in bed when you come home.”

“I’ll try and hurry,” he said, and was pleased to find it
was the truth. She rolled over and fell back asleep. He grabbed his case out of
the closet and left.

He parked his Mustang in a parking garage and took a short
bus ride to within a few blocks of the old Victorian house which served as
their base of operations.

“Where’d you finally grab him at?” Daniel asked when Simon
opened the door and led him down into the guts of the house.

“One of our agents up in Portland made him and tried to grab
him.” Simon gestured him forward and Daniel went to where Rob was bent over the
cadaver. “He killed two of our best Portland operatives.”

Daniel’s stomach turned when he saw the small hole in the
forehead.

Rob grinned at him and lifted the head up so he could see
the larger hole in back. “It’s big enough to put your fist in, if it’s a small
fist, and you wanted to put it there,” Rob said.

“Come on man, it’s like eight in morning,” Daniel said, glad
he hadn’t eaten.

“Oh you’ll love this, then.” Rob dropped the head and
tweezed something off his tray table. He flicked it to Daniel, who snapped it
out of the air.

“What’s this?” Daniel asked before he got a proper chance to
inspect it. When he did, he dropped it to the floor in revulsion. It was an
eye.

“Lighten up, Francis. It’s bionic.” Rob pushed his glasses
up.

“What?” Daniel hesitated and picked the thing back up off
the ground. The eye was soft, white, glistening, and foul. It looked exactly
like Daniel thought an excised eye would ... except it had a synthetic feel to
it. The iris was hard, like the screen of a television ... and green. The
biggest anomaly was the thick grey wire with a male plug at the end sticking
out the back where the optic nerve should have been.

“Fuck,” Daniel muttered.

“That’s what I said.” Rob pointed at the empty, staring
socket. Deep within there was a stained metal plate with a female receptacle on
it for the eye to plug into. Light reflected off thin steel wires woven into
the socket.

“What
is
he?”

Rob pushed his glasses up his nose with his wrist.
“Biomechanical, like the pigeons. I just had no idea their technology had
advanced this far.” He was sweating, and the latex gloves he wore were coated
with a thin layer of blood and something that looked strangely like 30-weight
engine oil.

“None of us did,” Jared said, as he and Ebin stepped up to
join them.

“You’ve stumbled on a rather extraordinary bit of evidence,
Daniel.” Jared clapped him on the back.

“Is it just his eyes?” Daniel asked.

“Let’s find out,” Rob said, and snapped his glove like a
sadistic highway patrolman about to embark on a cavity search.

Rob filled out his report later that day and sent it to the
other offices, along with a video and several photographs. Daniel and the other
agents were given a copy to read.

SUBJECT: Male, African-American, 25-30 yrs. of age.

Determined to have MULTIPLE BIONIC/CYBERNETIC ENHANCEMENTS,
including but not limited to:

EYES: (both) ENHANCED VISION, SUSPECTED RECORDING/INFRARED

CAPABILITIES

EARS: (both) SYNTHETIC EARDRUM, POSSIBLE AUDITORY RECORDING
CAPABILITIES

BRAIN: NOT INTACT OR OTHERWISE AVAILABLE FOR STUDY DUE TO
CAUSE OF DEATH (SEE PAGE 1 OF REPORT FOR DETAILS)

MOUTH: COMMUNICATION DEVICE LOCATED IN BACK OF THROAT

TEETH: RECEIVER AND TRANSMITTERS LOCATED IN NINETEENTH AND
TWENTIETH INCISORS, RESPECTIVELY

NOSE: EQUIPPED WITH SILICON AIR FILTER (both nostrils)

SPINAL COLUMN: REINFORCED W/ UNKNOWN POLYMER. ALSO ATTACHED
WAS A CONDUIT OF WIRES TRAVELING FROM BASE OF SPINE TO BRAIN STEM

HEART: APPROX. DOUBLE NORMAL SIZE. TWO (2) ADDITIONAL
CHAMBERS (synthetic), ALSO ATTACHED WHAT APPEARS TO BE EXTRA ADRENAL GLAND
(also synthetic)

STOMACH: NO DETECTED ENHANCEMENTS

LIVER: NO DETECTED ENHANCEMENTS

SPLEEN: NO DETECTED ENHANCEMENTS

APPENDIX: N/A

OTHER: HIDDEN COMPARTMENT LOCATED IN LEFT CALF

FEMALE RECEPTACLE IN RIGHT ARMPIT

ADDL. MALE PLUG LOCATED WITHIN FIFTH FINGER OF LEFT HAND.

See included video/photos for further detail.

Confirm reception and acceptance of material (all) contained
within this report.

*****

The five of them sat around the table that was home to the
dismantled corpse-machine, Ebin and Daniel smoking a joint. Rob had taken his
glasses off and was rubbing the bridge of his nose with thumb and forefinger as
if he had a headache.

Daniel smashed out the roach. “So what do we do?”

All eyes swiveled to Jared, who sat collecting his thoughts
before he spoke. “We have to find out if this bastard is the only one ... my
guess is that he’s not. If the next guy we bring down here is normal, we’ll get
another.”

“Hold up, man,” Rob said. “You’re talking about dragging
people off the street and cutting them up like this was a high school biology
class.”

“Yeah, I am,” Jared said. “You think they wouldn’t do the
same thing if the positions were reversed? Shit, Rob, they’d probably round up
a hundred subjects in the first wave.”

“How do we know which pig to pick?” Ebin asked.

Jared told them: “Run this asshole through the database
again and cross-reference him with all the other files. Find the ones with the
most common threads in our area and go from there.”

“Who’s doing the grunt work?” Simon asked.

“I will,” Daniel volunteered. “You mean bringing one in,
right? I’ll do it. I need to do it.”

Jared nodded. “OK. Let’s start looking for candidate number
two.”

They sat down in front of the computer and plugged the
stiff’s file back in. The closest match was a white guy by the name of David
Bailey. He went to Harvard and studied business and criminal law; after
graduation he enlisted in the Army and excelled as a member of the Green
Berets. He did a tour of duty in Afghanistan and then, like Wills, was off radar
for about two years. He cropped back up leading a private security force
similar to Blackwater, and then went into the C.I.A. He was last spotted in the
area six days ago.

“Interesting post-script to this guy.” Simon said, and tried
not to smile. “We believe he’s the one that put the converter on your
television.”

Daniel stared at the face on the screen, burning it into his
memory. The flesh had a doughy look, as though his time out of the field had
been punctuated by weight gain.

“This guy’s been in my place?” Daniel asked.

“Twice. He lives at 615 Clarkson Street,” Simon read off the
screen. “In the penthouse.”

“Can’t you tap into his TV like you did mine, and see if
he’s there?” Daniel asked.

Jared shook his head. “Nope. You’ll have to go there and
find out.”

“So should I kill him and bring him here or what?” Daniel
asked, sounding more sure of himself than he really felt. Could he really pull
the trigger on this guy?

“No,” Simon said. “Try using a little cunning and finesse.
It’ll keep you off the six o’clock news. But kill him if you have to.”

“Go home first,” Jared said. “We’ve had a long day. Start on
Monday.”

Daniel turned to leave, and then stopped. “Oh, by the way, I
told Echo I was being promoted and had to come in for training.”

“Good excuse.”

“Well, I’m gonna need a raise, aren’t I?”

“Get outta here, you fuckin’ con man,” Jared laughed.

Daniel looked up at the round white face of the moon and saw
the face of the man that had been in his apartment.

“This is nice, baby.” Echo squeezed his hand a little,
bringing him back into himself. He squeezed back. They were taking a walk,
something they used to do often but hadn’t had the chance to do recently.

“So you’re done with ... everything, right?” she asked, her
voice growing a little quiet.

“Aw angel, don’t start, huh?” He’d had a headache all day.

“But you’re done?”

“Yeah. I’m out.” What she didn’t know really didn’t concern
her. He felt lying was justified; this was his
job
now. It was part of
his life and he wanted it that way, but he wanted her as part of it too. If he
had to lie about this one thing, he would.

She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand again. They
finished their Sunday walk and went home for Sunday love.

The next morning Daniel was up at quarter after six. He
dressed in a hurry and kissed Echo goodbye, telling her he had to go in early
for the rest of the week for more training. He took his case and was about to
head out the door when her voice stopped him.

“What’s in there?”

“Huh?”

“That briefcase. What’s in it?”

“Oh, just shit for work. Training manuals and the phone
scripts and stuff.” What if she wanted to see …

Yeah what if? You gonna shoot her?

She yawned and lay back on the pillow again. “Love you,” she
said, already half asleep.

“Love you too.”

Daniel left the house and drove to a different parking
garage where they had left the little red pickup for him, and switched
vehicles. On Clarkson he parked half a block up and across the street from the
building that Bailey was supposed to be living in. Daniel opened the case on the
seat next to him and got out the mini telescope. All day Monday he sat and
watched, and he didn’t see anything. All day Tuesday and Wednesday he sat and
watched, and didn’t see the man he was looking for. Ebin showed that afternoon
to smoke out and take the next watch, mentioning they’d received a report of
Lawrence Wills being spotted the night before in both D.C. and Chicago.

“But he’s dead,” Daniel said. The only response Ebin had for
him was a shrug.

Daniel drove home in a gray mood, drained from sitting in
the truck all day. His lower back was a tight ball of heated wire. What if
Bailey had moved, or was transferred or something? Daniel wanted to be the one
to bring him in. He harbored a small but potent amount of hate for the man. He
thought of that slack-skinned sheep rummaging through his apartment, putting
bugs in the smoke detector and a converter on his TV, running his hands over
his things, Echo’s things. It made his skin crawl and at the end of each day he
thought he was a little closer to being sure he could pull the trigger if the
situation arose.