Repercussions

Michael Darlin

Chapter 1

Mark Conrad sat at his computer, absorbed in the game that he was playing. In response to his frantic moving of the mouse and banging of the keyboard, his on-screen avatar ran from the cover of one building to another, fired off a quick shot, and then took off again. Mark sat hunched over, and did not look up from the screen at all during the game. In the upper left corner of the screen, there was a timer, ticking down the seconds left in the game that he was playing. On the upper right, there were two numbers, showing the scores of the two teams who were playing against each other. As Mark moved his figure around the virtual map, he constantly shifted from the clock to the score and then back again. As the timer went below a minute, Marks movements became even quicker. However, despite his frantic urgings, the score of his teammates remained lower than that of the opposite team. When the game ended, Mark tore off his headphones and slammed them against the desk in frustration. Then he quickly picked them up again, fearing he had damaged them. He looked up as he heard a quick knock on the door, and saw Jamal open the door and walk in. Hey man, he said, Im sorry about those last five minutes. I...couldnt get it done. Mark tried to express politeness, but his frustration and anger were still visible on his face and in his tone of voice.

We need to get back on right now and challenge them to a rematch, replied Mark, shaking his hand animatedly. We cannot let them walk away with the bragging rights. Jamal hesitated, and then said, Dont you think maybe we could take a break? Weve been at it four hours already. Thats only half of the practice time we plan on having, right? Mark looked expectantly back at Jamal. And anyway, its only 8 oclock, we have a lot of time left to play yet. Well, I dont know. I think maybe if you just stood up and stretched your legs, it help you feel sharper for the rest of the night. After mulling over this point, Mark agreed. Slowly, he pulled himself out of the chair. He stretched various parts of his body; he was sore after having sat in the chair for hours on end. You know, I think Im going to go get a drink or something. Do you need anything? Mark asked. Jamal shook his head and returned to his apartment across the hall, and Mark went back to his bedroom to search for money. The bedroom was strewn with papers, clothes, and an assortment of odds and ends. They were stacked in messy piles in the corners of the room, on and around the bed, and strewn across the floor. Mark kicked a few of them around, trying to find the wallet that he was sure he had placed somewhere near the bed. After a few minutes of scrounging, he successfully located it, fallen behind the bed with several other clothes. Mark threw the clothes carelessly over his shoulder, and flipped through the pockets of his wallet. Looking at the contents, he was glad that Jamal did not take him up on his offer to buy him a drink. With a shake of his head, he tucked the wallet into his back pocket, and reentered the living room, which also functioned as the sitting room, the kitchen, and the dining room. However, the small sink, few cabinets, and rickety table were shoved in a corner; in the center of the room, free of the clutter that had invaded all the other surfaces of his fat, was his computer. The comfortable office that Mark spent most of his time in was more expensive than all the other furniture Mark had bought. The computer itself was worth about a years wages to most of Marks neighbors.

Before Mark left, he twice made sure that the regular lock and the two dead bolts were all locked. He was almost paranoid about checking the locks; with valuable hardware in his flat, he thought he could never be too careful. He descended the three flights of stairs carefully. Many of the stairs were chipped, and some slabs threatened to come completely off. Outside, the cold November wind hit Mark sharply. He shivered, as he had only a thin sweat jacket to protect him. A warm jacket, as was needed in a New York City winter, was not an option, not when he considered the contents of his wallet. Mark checked again, making sure he really had enough money to cover a drink and a candy bar. The thought crossed his mind that, as he was unemployed, and he had no other money besides what he now carried in his wallet, he would soon be without any money to buy food or other necessities of life. Exploring this thought deeper did not appeal to Mark, and he moved quickly to reviewing the game he had just played. Immersed in those thoughts, he did not have to take note of the drab surroundings that he walked through. The buildings were a cheerless mix of gray and brown, and even that dull color was weather-beaten and showing of signs decay. The people that passed Mark had a similar demeanor. They did not exchange greetings with one another, but instead hurried on their way, trying to avoid eye contact. Mark kept his head up, but he did not greet anyone either. His mind was far away in the land of virtual reality, where he scathingly evaluated his performance, and took notes on what he could improve for his next online encounter. He remained in this frame of mind throughout the five minutes it took to walk from his apartment building to the local convenience store. Inside, Mark snapped out of his reverie long enough to pick out his choice of soft drink and candy. He set the items on the counter, and dug through his wallet to find the dollar bills he needed. Going for light food tonight?

The friendly voice surprised Mark, and he looked up at the smiling face that had asked the question. He had never really noticed the middle-aged man behind the counter before; he was simply the server. Mark grunted in reply, and walked out. The small incident forgotten, he once again immersed himself in his own world as he retraced the path to his apartment. He did not notice or care about the people around him, or his surroundings; his only thoughts were for his little world. As he completed the three-story climb to his apartment, slightly out-of-breath, he shouted across the hall to Jamal, Are you ready to get back out there and dominate? Jamal grunted, which Mark took as an assent. Back inside his apartment, Mark placed his purchases on his left hand side, and sat down in front of the computer. He set his jaw and focused on the computer once again. He began to settle into a mental groove, concentrating on the screen, and blocking out all else, in preparation for the battle that was to come. In the middle of this process, his phone rang. Mark bit back angry words, and tugged the phone out of his pocket. He almost convinced himself to turn it off without answering, but after seeing the caller ID on the screen, he paused. With a deep, frustrated breath, he opened the phone and answered it. Hi Mark, its Aimee. A sweet soprano rolled lightly into Marks ear. It was not a voice that Mark could stay mad at for long. Knowing this, he answered reluctantly, Hi, Aimee. Growing serious, Aimee said, You know, I havent seen you in six months. Yeah, I know, Mark said. Despite her soft and gentle voice, he was still impatient to return to his game. Right now, it took precedence over any event in his life, including a call from his older sister. Aimee ignored his impatient reply, and continued, You just disappeared after everything at Harvard, and you never called me, or tried to return my calls, or made any attempt to communicate at all. What have you been doing in six months? Ive been...busy.

With what? Aimee usually spoke softly, but her voice took on a harder note when she wanted to get to heart of the issue quickly. Mark recognized this tone creeping into her conversation. Jamal opened the door, and looked questioningly at Mark. Mark waved his hand, and replied weakly, Just...things, you know. Aimee sighed, and then said, You need to see your family. You cant just break off all ties with your own and ride off into the sunset. Why didnt you call? Mark had no answer, and there was an uncomfortable pause as he waited for Aimee to continue. However, she did not, and Mark was finally forced to say, I will get around to seeing you soon, I promise. In the same way you promised study harder to raise your grades and not get kicked out of Harvard? This time Aimee did not wait for an answer, and continued, It doesnt matter, Im coming to see you tomorrow. Tomorrow? Im sorry; Im really busy that day. You know, I have to buy some stuff for the apartment, get some groceries, get some other stuff, and... Gently, Aimee broke in and said, Ill see you tomorrow. Have a good night. Five minutes after their conversation ended, Mark was back to staring at the computer screen, and had forgotten the exchange entirely. ****************************** Aimee had spent her time in the short limousine drive reflecting on her conversation with Mark. It had not been an encouraging meditation, but as she daintily alighted from the RollsRoyce, there was no trace of worry on her face. As the limousine drove off, Aimee paused for a minute in front of the marble steps that led up to the mansion in front of her. She smiled as she saw the bright lights shining through the windows, and the happy chatter of the people inside. She walked lightly up the steps to the door, where the doorkeeper helped her take off her coat,

revealing a pink gown underneath. As she entered the front room, a middle-aged woman approached her. Aimee, its so good to have you here tonight. I thought you wouldnt be able to make it. You know I could never miss any of your parties, Mrs. Stanford. I just had to make time for it. Mrs. Stanford smiled graciously, and ushered her in through the hall to the main ballroom. Heads began to turn as Aimee entered the room, and then even more as her name was announced. Before Aimee could reach the bottom of the steps leading to the floor of the ballroom, she was intercepted by a young man with eager eyes and as charming a smile as he could manage. Miss Conrad, Im Ray Conners. I believe we met two months ago in the meeting between our two companies. Im sure you remember? He stood eagerly awaiting her response. Oh, I remember. Its a pleasure to see you again. Aimee smiled, a brilliant, captivating smile. She was the most beautiful woman in the whole ballroom at least in Ray Connors opinion. This opinion was shared by Bryan Murray, who was standing behind him, and the five other young men standing several feet off, all politely jockeying for a position close to Aimee. The parties given by the Stanfords, one of the richest and oldest families of New York, were considered the best in the city. Only the social elite populated these parties, where gold shone everywhere, on womens arms and necks and every surface throughout the house. There were many young women in the grand ballroom, trying to catch the eye of the certain young man who would propel them to greater riches and higher society. There were also a number of young men with similar thoughts for the opposite sex. Tonight, the young women were frustrated, as the majority of young men had eyes only for Aimee. Amidst all the grandeur and opulence, Aimee seemed oblivious to the crowd she attracted, and did nothing to encourage the attention, although her admirers came in droves. She moved to the drinks table, where there were already four young men waiting

with glasses in hand. She chose one glass, smiled her captivating smile at the giver, and turned to go, leaving the lucky recipient with a rapid pulse and slightly trembling hands. Moving among the small groups of people, Aimee chatted with complete strangers as if they were her oldest friends, and conversed with her true friends as if each was her only real confidant. She always had the right word of encouragement, sympathy, or congratulations for everyone, and in a short period of time, she managed to gain the absolute trust of all she had graced with her presence. Aimee was aware of her influence, although she hid this awareness behind a veil of innocence. In this party, like many others she had been to, she was using this influence with full force. She managed simultaneous conversations with ease, and with each new acquaintance, she mentally filed away their names in case she ever needed a favor. She had already successfully used this list to accomplish several tasks she needed done. Tonight, she estimated, she could find five new friends, strengthen her relationship with a dozen others, and perhaps find time to taste the delicious hors d'oeuvres laid out in plenteous supply around the house. She allowed herself a small, proud smile. The young men crowded closer. ****************************** Robert Conrad smiled as he touched his glass to several others, and then rose to his feet. He was standing at the head of a long table, which seated at least twenty men, all in suits, and all looking like successful executives. The table was loaded with food, and waiters circled silently, serving everyone. However, there was also the silent, slightly menacing presence of bodyguards, standing just outside the light, surrounding the table, and Robert. The cold November air was blowing in a slight draft, as this meal was being held on the famous rooftop of M on the Fringe. There were cries of Speech, speech, and Robert smiled graciously, and quieted the cheers with an upraised hand.

As he looked around at the small circle of men, he began Thank you all for your support. Each one of you has helped me immensely, at one time or another in my career. I can truthfully say that without your assistance, I would never have reached the position I am in today. Indeed, I probably wouldnt have even reached 40 years of life. Robert paused and smiled, and his listeners smiled along with him. But since I have, in celebration, I would like to propose a toast, Robert continued, and all the men rose to their feet with glasses in hand. I would toast to all of you, first. I would toast to Conco, for its continued success. And finally, I toast our own city, New York City. There were loud cheers, and they all drank together. As they resumed their seats, Robert leaned over to Willis Gentry and said quietly, Well, only a few more days, and your campaign is over. Willis smiled, and said, Yes, its been an exhausting few months. I have to thank you most of all for your campaigning for me. Your support, and your speeches on my behalf have helped the public opinion immensely. Im really indebted to you. Robert replied, I am sure that you will not forget it when you take the mayors office again. He smiled. Willis nodded, and leaned back to his seat. For the rest of night, he appeared worried, ate little, and talked less. On his left, Dennis Terry also sat quietly, but Robert said to him, Im sure you can remember when I was only 20 years old. Dennis smiled, and said softly, Even back then I was an old man. But you still have your youthful vigor. You havent changed at all. Oh, I have, Dennis. I hope I have changed immensely, for the better. ******************************

The sniper lay prone on the rooftop. The rooftop on which he lay was in almost total darkness, but he could see Robert perfectly. The lights seem to be perfectly focused on Robert, framing him nicely. It was a routine shot; the sniper could pull off much harder shots with ease, and had already done so many times in his career But he muttered angrily under his breath when he saw that his vision of Robert was obscured by a security guard. The sniper was aiming for Roberts head, but no matter how he positioned himself, it was impossible to find a clean shot at Robert. The sniper did not care about the life of the guard, but he knew that trying to shoot through him might mean missing Robert. He also could not afford two shots; he would have to make his getaway as soon as possible. Once he pulled the trigger, and connected, he would be one of the most wanted men in the country. But he remembered his employer, and the fearsome tactics that he used on those who failed his missions, and he put his eye to the sight once again. After several minutes of inspection, it was clear to him there was no possible way to aim for the head. The best he could do was a shot to the body. It was less efficient, because there was a small chance that the target could escape with his life, but it was his only choice. The sniper steadied himself, and took aim. The sharp crack of the shot seemed to spread for miles, shattering the relative stillness of the November night in New York. The sniper was not surprised when he began to hear the cries of shock, horror, and fear as Robert slumped back in his seat. No one knew what had happened, and the orderly meal would soon dissolve into chaos. The sniper smiled as he watched the results of his handiwork. His job was finished, and he could report to Antonio a job well done. ****************************** In the middle of a sentence, Robert was suddenly thrown backwards by the impact of the bullet. There was a stunned silence that lasted a few seconds. Then everyone in the room began moving.

The men at the table rose, still struck dumb by shock and horror. The only sound was a short, high-pitched scream from one of them. They could only watch as the security detail formed a human ring around Robert. The bodyguards shouted out orders to the headwaiter to call an ambulance. A doctor was already kneeling over Robert, who lay on the ground with his eyes closed. The doctor saw no outward sign of blood, or a wound, but he still expected the worst as he felt for Roberts pulse. He was surprised to feel his pulse still beating strongly. However, despite these good signs, Robert was still bundled quickly into an ambulance. The doors slammed behind him and the ambulance screeched out of the parking lot, leaving the waiters who were at least partially recovered attempting to placate the diners ****************************** The man seemed to be sitting nonchalantly beside a trash can, but then he suddenly raised a pair of binoculars and peered through them at the ambulance driving at top speed in the opposite direction. With a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, he raised a radio to his mouth, and spoke into it, Theyre heading towards Memorial Hospital, by Fifth and Parkinson. You can get it ready. ****************************** In the ambulance, the paramedics worked frantically on Robert. It was not mentioned, but they were all aware of who they were treating. They found no outward signs of injury, although they did find a hole in his suit, inches from his heart. They started to tear off his clothes, but then paused, taken aback, when, under his dress shirt, they found a heavy black jacket. A quick inspection confirmed that it was a bulletproof vest, and it had successfully stopped the bullet. Suddenly, Robert gasped and opened his eyes. Panting, he tried to sit up, but the medics held him back politely but firmly.

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Sir, youre injured, began the lead paramedic. We need you to... Im fine, Robert interrupted. I really dont need any medical help. The hands holding him back continued to restrain him. Sir, we know that you might feel no pain, but you still need a checkup... No, I need to call my car, and get back to my own house, and Ill be fine. Robert now started to raise his voice, and push against the hands restraining him. Thats impossible, we... Kindly take your hands off my arms, and let me leave! Robert now spoke in his most commanding voice, and gave the head medic the full benefit of his intimidating stare. The medic in return could only shift his gaze to the floor, and then glance at his colleagues, who were also avoiding the glare from Robert. Finally, biting his lip, the captain knocked on the door of the ambulance. The ambulance slowly pulled over to the side of the road, and seconds afterward, Robert dropped from the back. As the ambulance drove away, he dialed a number on his phone. Cameron, this is Robert. Get me a car, at the corner of Fifth and Anderson. Fast. The ambulance continued on its way, but no longer with flashing lights. Suddenly, the gangsters car pulled out in front of the ambulance, which swerved hard to the right, smashing at full speed into a street pole. Immediately, the three men in the car jumped out and ran towards the ambulance. One man targeted the driver first, killing him with one shot to the head. The other two yanked open the doors at the back, and pointed large handguns at the bewildered medics. A few seconds of searching told the two men that their target was not there. They used three bullets to dispatch of the medics, who never knew what hit them.

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As they jumped back into the car, the leader radioed back to his headquarters, He wasnt there. The driver gunned the engine, and in thirty seconds, the car was out of sight of the crash scene. There was no evidence of their coming and going, only the four murdered men in the ambulance.

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Chapter 2

Mark leaned back from the screen and stretched his tired body. He was sore all over from hours of sitting and staring, but he felt the sacrifice was well worth it. He and Jamal were on a roll; they had won their last four match-ups, including the all-important revenge game. It was now nearly midnight, but Mark felt that with their hot hands, another two hours would go by in flash. He slowly rose from his chair, feeling the effects of sitting with poor posture for hours on end. He crossed over the hall to Jamals apartment, knocked briefly, and entered without waiting for an answer. Jamal was still slumped in his chair, staring dully at the screen. He did not look up as Mark entered. Are you ready for another couple hours of good action before we call it a night? Mark asked enthusiastically, blind to Jamals apparent fatigue. Jamal looked up with a clenched jaw. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again. Mark looked at him inquisitively, and then asked, Well, are you ready or not? You know, you should show some more enthusiasm. The last two games, you really slipped on your defense. Youre lucky I was there to pick you up. Jamal snapped, Ive had enough. What? Mark asked. Jamal, no longer listless, stood up and looked Mark in the face. I said, Im not interested anymore. Ive been playing about ten

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hours a day for two months now, and Ive had enough. Im cant believe Im wasting my life on this. What are you talking about? You were terrible when we first met, but now that Ive shown you some new moves, youre doing great. In a few months, we could turn pro if we wanted. These attempted words of reassurance from Mark had no effect on Jamals anger. You think I enjoy this? You think that I like to play for ten hours like you do? You really think theres someone out there thats as crazy as you are? Taken aback, Mark stammered, Well...I thought you liked it. I mean, you started it. When we met, dont you remember? You asked. I just thought...you did like it. Mark trailed off and looked down at the floor. Jamal clenched his jaw again, and breathed loudly through his nose. The only reason I started this... he started, then stopped and took a deep breath. There followed several seconds of silence. Finally, Jamal said, in a voice trembling with emotion, Look, just get out. Just let me be alone, OK? Please. Mark, after seeing the look on Jamals face, nodded, and turned to go. But as he opened the door, he turned around and said, I just want to say, if you ever need anything, then Ill... Jamal had started to calm down, but now he exploded, and shouted at Mark, Dont try to help! Youll just make it worse, because you always do! Get out, just get out, OK! Dont come back, and dont show your fat face around here again! Mark was retreating slowly with each angry word Jamal shouted at him, and at the last word, he stepped all the way out of Jamals apartment, and fled back to his own apartment. He locked the door, and sat down on his computer chair in a daze. Through the thin walls, he could hear Jamal throwing things. Slowly, the bangs and crashes decreased, and Mark thought about what Jamal had just told him. Mark looked up to Jamal almost as much as he looked up to Aimee, and his words threw Marks world out of orbit.

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****************************** Robert sat in the darkness and contemplated. His aide Cameron English stood at the door, ready to jump at the first command Robert issued. He had stood at attention, rigid and ready, for the last ten minutes. So far, Robert had neither moved from his position in the shadows nor uttered a single sound. Cameron could not see his face, and had not seen it since he had entered the room. He did not move closer to see his boss. Has the delegation arrived yet? came the voice out of the darkness. After so many years working with Robert, Cameron could tell when his boss was holding back his anger, coldly waiting to unleash it. This kind of anger came only when Robert was planning against his enemies. So far, his enemies had never been able to withstand that anger. Yes sir, the delegation arrived promptly. There are a dozen men and three cars, all highly armed. The highest-ranking one is of Antonios junior district leaders. After this routine brief, Cameron breathed a silent sigh of relief. A bearer of bad news to Robert never fared well, especially if the bad news was their own fault. Cameron had made a career of assigning unfortunate subordinates to relay the bad news of the day to Robert. But on this night, his thankfulness was short-lived. Where are they? Now Cameron recognized that the anger was unleashed. He took a deep breath before he answered, and was thankful that the anger was not directed at him. Theyre currently waiting for you in the fifth level parking lot. Take me to them. Cameron did not wait to question him further. With a press of a button, four burly security guards were summoned to his side. As Robert headed out of the room, the steel doors at the entrance of his rooms opened slowly, and the guards formed a human wall around him.

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Cameron watched them go, then walked quickly to a control room that showed all the closed circuit television in the building. He focused his attention on the screens showing the parking lots, situated fifty feet below ground. Meanwhile, Robert and his security detail boarded an elevator. Eighty-eight floors above ground, and five below passed in a blur, and in total silence. The doors opened into a dimly lit parking lot. Three white Rolls-Royces sat gleaming in the grey light. All the windows were tinted, but Robert knew that behind each one was a man with a rifle trained on him. Standing beside the car in the center was Korey Quinn. Robert walked toward him, holding his gaze, but did not hold out his hand or greet him in any way. Korey held his stare for as long as possible, before finally looking at the ground. Robert stood five feet from the man and casually rested his hand on the polished bumper, and stared at him without pause. Korey glanced from the ground back to Robert, saw Roberts eyes still piercing him, and shifted his gaze to the less intimidating sight of Roberts bodyguards. Robert watched his actions, and then asked in a voice dripping with contempt, Whats your name, kid? Korey remembered the threatening figure of Antonio, and drew himself up. Ignoring the question, he began You cant expect Antonio to come to this trivial meeting can you? The boss is busy, and he cant waste time dealing with people like you. Youre lucky he even decided to send anyone to see you at all. Yeah, we know you want to throw in the white flag after what happened tonight. At the end of his speech, Korey held Roberts gaze successfully for three seconds. Robert continued to stare at Korey, and then slowly turned around and walked away. Korey interpreted the retreat of Robert as surrender, and he turned back with a smile to his men sitting in the cars. Suddenly, Robert whirled around. I can see your smirking. You think youve got a victory? Really? Robert fired the questions at Korey. Then his expression changed, and he walked back to Korey. Softly, almost gently, he laid

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a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye, and said, Im sorry you cant stay around long enough to learn about reality. His hand dropped from Koreys shoulder, and he shifted back to his business voice as he turned around and said, Guards. Korey immediately drew his weapon and aimed at Roberts back. I have a dozen men, he shouted, and theyre all fully armed and ready to shoot. Robert almost smiled. You might consider tinted windows hip or cool, but Im afraid theyve betrayed you this time. I think you failed to notice three small pipes that my men put in the air vents of the car when your back was turned. Your men died from a gas that kills in seconds, and you never noticed. Im afraid youre all alone. Korey kept his eyes and his gun on Robert as he slowly walked backwards until he stood in front of one of his cars. He fumbled with one hand to open the front door of the car. As the door opened, a man slowly slumped out, and sprawled on the ground. Korey risked a glance at the body, and saw that Robert was not bluffing. In a second, he saw what his fate would be. He took a deep breath and tightened his finger on trigger, training it right at Roberts head. The deadly silence in the parking lot was broken by the deafening roar of machine guns. After the smoke cleared, Robert retraced his steps back the elevator. The guards followed silently in his footsteps. Watching from the control room, Cameron shook his head, but did not show any signs of surprise. ****************************** Boss, there was nothing I could do about it. He must have slipped out when there was a...blind spot, and by the time we intercepted the ambulance, he was gone... Worried, Jerome tried to read his bosss face. However, his boss was leaning against his Rolls-Royce, staring absently at the gleaming white finish. They were standing in an abandoned street, lit

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dimly by failing streetlights. They were alone, except for the two guards standing at a respectful distance. Antonio looked up from the car and towards Jerome. Antonios eyes were no longer vacant as he stared straight at Jerome, cowering a few feet away. Antonio slowly took a step toward Jerome, and then another. Antonio finally stopped with his face inches from Jeromes. Antonio was not a tall man, but his burliness was imposing and his commanding presence made him even more intimidating. Towering over Jerome, Antonio asked quietly A...blind spot, you say? Jerome shrank back visibly, and said hurriedly, We had guys stationed all along the way, he just managed to slip away, and... He trailed away miserably. Antonio leaned back slightly, and it seemed to Jerome as if the fire had gone out of his eyes. He breathed a slow sigh of relief. Suddenly, Antonio, grabbed Jerome by the chin, and forced him to look at him eye-to-eye, inches apart. No longer calm and quiet, Antonio shouted, Youve failed me utterly, do you know that? This was a simple project, one that we have done multiple times before. I trusted you to carry it out without my help, and you came back to me with nothing. You came back, skulking and cringing, with nothing! What do you have to say for yourself? Caught off guard, Jerome had nothing to say for himself. He could only gulp, and nod silently. Antonio smiled humorlessly. He turned his back to Jerome, and walked away. As he did so, he signaled to the guards standing a few feet away. Jerome knew what was coming, but did not move. The silence was shattered by deafening gunfire, which was then followed by a soft thud. Antonio did not check to see if anyone had witnessed the brutal killing. No one would come to check. After all, those sounds were heard every five minutes in a neighborhood like this. Antonio kept walking and didnt turn back.

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Chapter 3

Gregory Cade walked into his workplace at 8:35 AM. His entrance to work was always at the same time, no matter what had gone on the previous day, or how late he had been up that night in this case it was 2 AM. He kept a strict schedule, and he expected his subordinates to have the same promptness. As he walked into his office, he was immediately greeted by his secretary, who told him, The mayor is on the phone, urgent business. Greg nodded, and entered his office. He put down his briefcase, took off his suit, and settled into his chair before picked up the phone. This is Gregory Cade speaking. Willis Gentry wasted no time on pleasantries, and said immediately, I need a full explanation for the events that happened last night. The New York police was responsible for security at the event, and it completely failed. Did you happen to read the newspaper this morning? No sir, I havent had the time. Well, its a disaster. An attempt on the life of the most prominent businessman of this city! The murder of four ambulance workers! This is a PR disaster, and it needs to be stopped. And as you are the police commissioner of this city, I need a full review of the situation, on my desk, tomorrow morning. Furthermore, the public needs an explanation. Do you understand me? Yes sir, absolutely, Greg said.

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Willis hung up without another word, and Greg gently replaced the phone with a small sigh. After a minute of reflection, he picked it up again and dialed. Robert had just put on his suit when his phone rang. Hello, he said shortly, without a friendly tone in his voice. Ah, Mr. Conrad, this is Gregory Cade. Im the police commissioner. Greg paused, but Robert said nothing. Greg continued, I hope that you are not injured in any way? No, I am not. Nothing touched me. Well, I have to say that I regret with all my heart what happened last night. As the leader of the security detail that night, I am conducting a full investigation into the situation, and I promise you that we will find the person or person responsible for this attempt, and bring them to justice. Well, Ill be waiting for your call then. But I dont think youll be able to find him. I think the police are able... Greg started, but Robert had already hung up. Greg shook his head, put the phone back in its cradle, and started to examine the business of the day. ****************************** Robert smoothed his hair, and then opened the steel doors of his apartment. In the outer rooms, Cameron was waiting for him. What did he say? Robert asked. It was definitely Antonio, sir. Robert said grimly, If he cant let me know these things beforehand, like Im paying him to do, then he may be looking for another job soon. Cameron understood Roberts real meaning, and nodded. And after this meeting, Robert added, I need to see Garrett. Cameron did not raise his eyebrows, as it was wise never to question or show surprise at Roberts decisions. However, he knew that Robert only employed Garrett for the most sensitive business.

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Robert walked through the second set of steel doors, and into the glass-walled elevator, which started to descend to the ground floor. Robert leaned with his back against the glass, unaffected by the vertigo some might have had from being more than eighty stories above ground. This hotel, located in the middle of New York City, was the central hotel in the Conrad chain and was rated the best on the East Coast. Suites had to be booked many months in advance, and the prices reflected the demand. However, even the Grand Suite, the one used by visiting dignitaries and heads of states, could not outshine Roberts own living space. Due to his intense desire for privacy, there were no photos of his room floating around on the internet. The content of his room had become almost an urban legend. The bell rang, and the elevator doors opened. A few feet to his left was the splendor of the lobby another hallmark of the hotel. However, Robert chose to walk to his right and down the spacious, gold-plated hall to a small conference room. Today, Robert would announce the financial results of Conco. As one of the biggest companies in New York City, and the country, the results would have a profound effect on the stock market. Waiting in the room were the board of directors of the company. There were only a few Robert did not like to hand out power over his company lightly. In reality the men that sat on the board of directors were only figureheads: Robert tolerated them, and the men did nothing to get in his way and drew a large paycheck as a result. The public was never informed of the inner workings of the company, and in the end everyone stayed happy, including the government. One of the few responsibilities for a director of Conco was to show up at press conferences and put on a good face for the cameras and the inquisitive media. However, they all knew that Robert would be the main focus of this event. Robert brushed off the greetings of the men, and sat down for a quick briefing that ran through the agenda of the meeting and repeated the numbers that would be announced.

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The preparations over, the shareholders and media could finally see what they had been waiting for. Robert walked onto the podium first, with the cameras flashing, and then the board members. No one was allowed to ask questions during the meeting, but Robert was aware that everyone wanted to ask about the events of previous night. During the introductions, all eyes were trained to Robert. Finally, Roberts time to announce the annual results came. Thank you for coming out today. Im always glad to see the support our shareholders have shown to this company over the years. Without you, of course, the current well-being of this company would not be possible. He smiled reassuringly, even though what he had just said was a polite lie. He continued, And now, I have the pleasure to announce the annual earnings for our company. Robert had the full financial report in front of him, but he had no need to refer to it, as he already knew the information by heart. In this year, compared to last year, revenue is up 45 percent, debts outstanding were cut in half, and overall profits are up 54 percent. Robert almost smiled as he observed the reaction. There were a few small gasps, followed by loud and long applause from the shareholders section. Then came the flashing of cameras and scratching of pens from the journalists. Robert got up quickly, ignoring the shouted questions about his health, and the incident that was on everyones minds. Robert only paused long enough to say, I am fine, and I am not injured in any way. A police investigation is ongoing. You may inquire for further details from them. As he walked backstage, he held in a smile. Because of what he had said, the market would be going up today. ****************************** Mark, wake up. Mark reluctantly rolled from his curled position on his bed. He shook the loose strands of his hair out of his eyes and rubbed his

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eyes. He winced at the bright light that was streaming in through the window. As his eyes adjusted to the light of the sun, he recognized the person standing over his bed, ready to give him another shake if need be. Aimee, what are you doing here? he asked groggily What are you planning to do today, Mark? What are you talking about? Just answer my question first, OK? Mark struggled to gather his thoughts and wrap his mind around the difficult question posed to him so early in the morning. He saw the clock showing 9:45 AM, and he groaned. Come on, Mark, answer the question. Its not funny, Im being serious, said Aimee as she shook him one more time. Mark shook his head to clear his thoughts once more, and then replied slowly, I have no idea. After his statement, he flopped back into a reclining position on his bed and closed his eyes once more. Aimee shook her head and sighed softly. As Mark didnt show any signs of wanting to rouse himself from bed, she decided to leave him. She took two steps from the side of Marks cot into the living room, and then closed the door by which she had just entered Marks apartment. The reverberations of the door slamming unsettled papers that were stacked a foot high on a small, rickety table. Aimee coughed as visible clouds of dust rose from the papers now scattered on the floor. The grey matter began to settle on her white shirt and jeans, and Aimee put her hands on her hips as surveyed the room. There was barely any room to move, as numerous books, papers, and other paraphernalia were scattered randomly on the floor, the chairs, the tables, or any other flat surface. The dusty junk mostly obscured the minimal furniture; in contrast the wall was bare of any furnishings, although the paint was peeling, and there were multiple cracks in the wall. Aimee also spotted several bullet holes. Anyone entering the room would see that the center of the room was the computer. Unlike the rest of the room, there was no

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clutter around the desk; it was even relatively clean of dust. The padded office chair seemed majestic compared to the tarnished and scuffed furniture. Aimee shook her head and ran a finger across the cabinet. She grimaced as her finger blackened. She stepped into the kitchen and turned on the sink, but changed her mind after the water came out as a mix of brown and yellow. She rooted through the few drawers, and finally found a relatively clean paper towel to complete the simple task of wiping off her finger. By the time she had finished that task, her jaw was set, and she marched back into Marks bedroom. She reached down, turned him over, and pulled him upright by grabbing two fistfuls of his shirt. Wake up, Mark! she almost shouted, and she slapped him on the cheek. Marks comfortable drowsiness was abruptly interrupted. Hey! Aimee lowered her voice, but kept her grip on his shirt. You know what, Ive had enough. This place is an absolute wreck. And do you have any idea what you look like? Without waiting for an answer, she continued, You look like you havent changed clothes or washed in about two weeks. She shook her head again, and started to haul him out of bed. Mark shook off her hand, and struggled to his feet. Finally on eye level with her, he said confidently, Look I dont need your help here. Im... Aimee did not wait to hear his explanation, and replied, Do you think so? Let me ask again, have you looked at yourself, or your own living space? Hey, Im living on my own, and I have a right to live how I like. How did you get in here anyway? You evidently forgot to lock your own door last night. And youre not living on your own, are you? Youve never paid the bills, the rent, or anything else. You dont have a job, and you dont earn any money for yourself. What do you spend your time doing?

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Marks eyes shifted around the room, refusing to meet the accusing stare of Aimees. Suddenly, Aimee reached for a case that was sitting near the computer, and brandished it in Marks face. You spend your time doing this? she asked, and then looked at the cover. Rated M for intense violence, gore, and frequent use of strong language? Are you kidding? Looking at a point above her head, Mark replied, Its not real...its not a big deal. The answer failed to pacify Aimee, and she persisted, If its not real, why are you wasting your life on it? You do realize, of course, that youre living in the poorest, most violent area of New York? What Mom and I graciously gave you is thrown in the garbage with this stuff. And you expect that you have no obligation to me or to her? She looked hard to read his mood, but he had only a stubbornly blank face. Aimee paused, and then said quietly, If I were Robert, I would say this is a failed investment. You know what Robert does with failed investments? Marks face suddenly took on a different kind of expression than the sullen one he had been displaying, and he asked quickly, What are you saying? More slowly, and with less accusation, Aimee replied, Im saying that Im not Robert, and that because I actually love you personally, Im coming here to help you. And Im not going to do that by helping you stay here, whether you like living in a dump or not. You desperately need a change, and you need it now. Mark began to protest, but he was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Jamal didnt bat an eye at Marks disheveled appearance, but as his eye turned to Aimee, he almost started to gawk. After a few seconds, Mark broke the awkward silence, Um, hey, Jamal. Im, just a little busy. Jamal closed his mouth and slowly shifted his gaze back to Mark. Yeah, Im sorry. I just wanted to say something. Uh, maybe I can come back later.

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Yeah, that would be good. Uh, I guess Ill talk to you later, man. Jamal attempted to nod coolly, and turned to walk out. As he left, he couldnt resist taking another quick glance over his shoulder at Aimee. She closed the door firmly behind him and locked it. Were leaving in an hour. But before that, youre going to get cleaned up, and youre going to clean this apartment, if thats possible. Mark made a pretense of argument, but Aimees firm words could not be debated. As he took his first shower since before he could remember, Aimee began to rummage through the things piled up in the room, and to deposit the most obvious junk into the dumpster outside. She even had time to buy a cleaning solution from a neighborhood convenience store, and after Mark had found clean and relatively unwrinkled clothes, she put the spray bottle and paper towels in his hands. She sat down at the computer chair, the only chair without dust on it, and watched him the whole time as he scrubbed, scoured, and polished every flat surface. Once the house was shining to her liking, she locked the door and took him to her car that was waiting outside. It was a gleaming light blue, a shining contrast to their bleak surroundings. As they began the long drive from the Bronx to the house where their mother lived, on the outskirts of the New York suburbs, Mark commented, almost chiding, You know, youre fortunate that car wasnt robbed in the hour that you had it there. Aimee did not take her eyes off the road as she replied, If you werent living there, I wouldnt have to worry about it every time I went to visit you. The rest of their journey was ridden in silence. On the way, she stopped by a barber, and while Mark had his haircut for the first time in nearly a year, Aimee bought him a set of clothes. By the time they entered the gated community where the Conrad family mansion was located, Mark looked the neatest he had been since his first day of college. As they drove in slowly through the imperious gates, and down the long, tree-lined driveway, Mark drummed his fingers

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repeatedly on the car door. Aimee glanced at him, and said, You dont have to be nervous. Its Mom. Mark shook his head, and said as he gazed over the manicured lawn, Its been a while. Anyway, who said that Im nervous? Aimee smiled and said nothing. The car came to a halt in front of the house, and Mark slowly pulled himself out. As Aimee mounted the steps, he continued to look upwards and around him, taking in the sights and sounds that he had been away from so long. The large, tall door was opened by a butler, who politely bowed the siblings into the front room. As they waited for their mother to appear, Aimee stood patiently while Mark stood on one foot and then another. Finally, their mother Janet appeared. She smiled at the sight of Aimee, and then covered her open mouth as she saw Mark standing awkwardly behind her. She uttered a sound of disbelief, and rushed to give him a long hug. As she greeted her long awaited youngest child, she appeared to have tears in her eyes. Aimee smiled as she watched her mother talking softly to Mark. Finally, Janet turned to Aimee and hugged as her well. Quietly she whispered in her ear, How did you do it? Aimee whispered back, You know me. Janet smiled, and said to both of them, Please, come in. Its been so long since someone has come to visit, and I havent seen either of you in so long. Mark went up the long, wide stairs that dominated the front of the house and went towards his old room. Janet said quietly to Aimee, How did you really do it? And why now? Aimee replied, The truth is whats needed. Marks not stupid; he knows what hes got himself into, hes just too proud to admit he made a mistake. Where hes living is really as bad as its described. When I saw what his apartment was like, I knew that something needed to change. Aimee paused and sighed, and then said, He should move back in with you. Its the best thing, right now.

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Janet smiled. You know how much I would like to see him back where he rightfully belongs. Aimee shook her head and replied, But hes stubborn and proud, and hell never agree. But what he wants right now is irrelevant. You can see where his own will took him. Hell eventually destroy himself if he goes on being stubborn and doesnt change. And its not him hes destroying. Mom, hes hurt me, you, and even Robert by whats he done. And its going to continue. Its better for all of us if he gets himself under control, even if takes some force. As Mark came down the stairs to rejoin them, Janet said quietly, Lets not talk about whats already happened. Let this be a happy time, for once. Aimee sighed, but nodded. As Mark rejoined them, Janet said to the little group, Its so wonderful to have both of you here together. And where is Robert? Cant he join us? Aimee replied, I dont think so. Hes on business, as usual...but anyway. While were here, is there anything we could have for lunch? ****************************** Robert once again was at the head of the table, but this time it was in the boardroom with only one other man at the table. Cameron, standing faithfully behind Robert, was the only other person in the room. Robert looked across at Dennis Terry, whose face show all of his eighty years. Still, he sat straight, and showed no signs of dementia. He was now looking sharply at Robert, waiting for him to begin. So, Dennis, Robert began, It comes down to this. I have supported you as you grew older, and after you retired, and it comes to this. We have been in these talks for weeks now. Robert shook his head.

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Dennis Terry said nothing, waiting for Robert to reveal his true thoughts on the matter. Robert continued, Well then, I think you know best of all why we are here. The only way you will not bring an anticompetition lawsuit against us is if we give you a favorable deal for your company. Dennis leaned forward and in a commanding bass not weakened by age said, No, I would say that the reason we are here is that Conco has committed grievous acts against our company, and several others, in the New York City area, in clear violation of antitrust laws on the state and federal levels. We would agree not to prosecute you, your board, and your company, only on the condition you stop your blatant disregard to the laws of the state. That is all I ask. Robert smiled, and said, You mean, we commit to an illegal, under-the-table deal, only for your company, so that then there would be two great companies dominating the market, not one. Dont play with words, Robert. What you are doing is illegal, and I want to put a stop to it. If you were not such a great help to me before, I would have gone straight to the police. Robert leaned forward, no longer smiling, and said in a low voice, Do not pretend you have the moral upper hand here. You are the one who left this company to form a rival one, and you are now trying to destroy your old employer and friend. Dont you forget everything Ive done for you? Dennis shook his head and replied, Perhaps youve forgotten that I was the one who helped you get your start in the business, especially after your father passed away? Have you conveniently forgotten this? In any case, I will notcannot let personal friendships stand in the way of the law any longer. The Law, you say? If you want to talk about the legal side of things, then I am sure that your company is not squeaky clean. In fact, we have information here that could send you and your entire board to jail for the rest of your life. And I do believe, as sources on

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the inside tell me, that rich businessmen in prison are not greatly loved by the...lower classes. You do not try to intimidate me, Robert. Those charges are utterly false, as you know. Is the truth intimidation? To a guilty man, perhaps. Robert settled back into his chair, and Cameron stepped forward, on cue as usual, with a folder. Robert flipped through the pages briefly, and then tossed it carelessly across the glass table towards Dennis. You want to look at it? I think that if I gave it to the police, they would be very interested in taking a look. I have a few connections in the NYPD as well, and I do recall them telling me they are especially cracking down on white collar criminals. And Willis Gentry, who, as Im sure you know, is a close friend of mine, wants to make a good impression on the voting public. He stakes his claim to the mayors office on his cleaning up the city, and I think a big fish like you would be a great example. Dennis swallowed once during the monologue, but when Robert was finished, he burst out, still defiant, You do not intimidate me. I reject these slanderous charges, utterly and entirely. Robert fired the questions, one after another at Dennis. Can you reject the American Airways deal on March 2, 2006? The money you paid to Morris Nash on August 30, 2002? Farther back, I could ask about the questionable firing of an honest employee, Tom Manning in January of 1998. I believe that if any of those little incidents came to light in the courtroom, with the right lawyer, a tearful witness, and a good dose of publicity. You would be behind bars for a very long time. Once again, Dennis was unflinching in his reply, You have no evidence to any of those. Robert smiled as he said, So you dont deny any of it? His smile faded again, and he leaned forward in an earnest manner and said, I appreciate honesty. So you dont need to be shy; tell me what you would think if I told you that I have, right outside this door, John Lucas III? Does this name sound familiar? Denniss face did not change, but Robert was a perceptive observer.

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So, Dennis, you do admit some familiarity with this man? Finally, Dennis found speech, and said slowly, John Lucas III died 15 years ago in an industrial accident. They always use that excuse, dont they? You were too sloppy in this case. John Lucas is not the man to go down without a fight. A man entered the room, looking to be pushing his midforties, but still with very wide shoulders and a broad chest. What was left of resistance in Dennis died away. He now began to look like an 80-year-old man in need of rest and a nursing home. Robert appeared to soften, and laid a hand on his arm. Youre 80 years old now. You should retire, find a nice home in Florida. I think youve become...inconvenient. With a ghost of a smile, Robert silently took back his folder and left. Dennis sat there for a long time before hoisting himself out of the chair, his arms trembling under the strain. Then he called for his chauffeured car. Once back in his own offices, he sat in his chair, thinking of the business he had created with his own hands, by his own sweat and hard work. Slowly, he buried his head in his hands and wept. ****************************** Robert dialed a number on his phone. This is Robert. I need you to finish up a little operation for me. Absolutely, boss. Anything you need. What can I do? The recipient of Roberts phone call answered in a deep voice, one that had an edge of intimidation to it, but one that, when addressing Robert, also carried a tone of respect. In person, Garrett had the typical build of a bodyguard and the leadership skills that set him apart. He intimidated many and respected few. Robert was one of the few.

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Theres a certain...storekeeper, down in the Bronx, Robert said, He keeps a little store, doesnt do much. But hes our main middleman. You know what I mean. I know, boss. Hes been bailing out on us recently. Hes developed a conscience, and he wants to give it all up. You know why we cant let him go. I need you to give him a little persuasion. We cant afford to let him walk away, you understand? Ive got it, boss. Ill be on it right away. And Garrett...if he absolutely refuses to do as we want him to, then he is expendable. I know what you mean. Ill have the problem taken care of tonight. Good. Report back to me when youre finished. Garrett closed his phone, and immediately sprang from his chair. He was never a man to waste time thinking in great detail of what he needed to do. He always knew what he wanted, and he immediately went about accomplishing that. He walked into another room, which was filled to the rafters with guns. He looked closely over each one, running his hands over the barrels to feel their touch, taking them out and aiming to test their balance. His touch was gentle and soft, and he displayed the learned touch of an expert, as he was known for being in his business. Although usually the ones who knew of his expertise the best were already dead. Garretts hands finally stopped on a gun which seemed to suit his needs the best. He went through his lengthy examination, and found it satisfactory. He slipped it into his pocket and went out to follow his bosss commands. ****************************** As soon as Robert finished his conversation with Garrett, the phone rang again. His jaw clenched, but after checking the caller ID, he answered the phone. This is Aimee. Good afternoon, Aimee.

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Were having a family lunch, Robert. You should be here. A family lunch? You mean, your younger brother included? I thought he was quite smitten with life in the slums of Bronx. Or was it in New Delhi? Aimee ignored Roberts dripping sarcasm, and replied evenly, I mean all of us are here... except you. I would strongly suggest you be here within the next half hour. Im a busy man, Aimee. I do not have time to dabble in the trivial arguments that Mark will inevitably want to bring up. I thought you were the greatest boardroom arguer in the world. Surely you have no fear of Mark? Aimee needled gently. Thats ridiculous, Aimee, and you know it, Robert said in a slightly exasperated tone. Good, so Ill be glad to see you in thirty minutes. See you later, Robert, Aimee replied. Before she hung up the phone, Robert could almost swear she was laughing at him. Robert gritted his teeth, but he summoned Cameron, and said shortly, Bring my car around, and cancel my lunch with the lobbyist. I have alternative plans. With his back turned, Cameron allowed himself a single raised eyebrow. ****************************** The long table in the center of the dining room, usually with only a solitary chair pulled up to it, now had three chairs, clustered together. The great hall was usually only filled with echoes, but now it reverberated with chatter and laughter. During the appetizers, the three of them were mostly silent, the awkward pauses only filled by the occasional polite questions and shorts answers. But slowly, as the chandeliers slowly began to reach their maximum illumination, the Conrads chatter grew more animated, the pauses less frequent, and all of them began to smile more, even breaking into spontaneous laughter. Mark had forgotten, at least temporarily, the trials he had gone through in the past few days. His stomach was full with the fine

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food that Janets chef had provided, and he settled back in the soft chair, contented. Aimee smiled as she saw Mark talking to their mother, no longer reserved but animated. She forgot about the hard work day that she had slogged through, and a weight was lifted from her mind as she enjoyed, for the first time in a long time, the wonderful fellowship of a family together. As the main course was cleared and new plates set for dessert, Aimee cleared her throat and began, You know, I think this is the first time that weve had a lunch together in what, a year? Or maybe more? Mark said nothing, and Janet replied, Its been a while, hasnt it? Aimee eyed Mark as she said slowly, I think we should do something like this more often, because this has been nice. Dont you think so, Mark? Mark looked up from the plate he had been staring at, and hesitated before his reply. He looked at his mother, and then back at Aimee. Finally, he answered, Yeah, that would be cool. I guess Ive forgotten how good the food around here is. Janet smiled discreetly at Aimee. Then she looked at Mark with concern and asked, What do you eat at your apartment? Do you manage to cook something for yourself? Mark shrugged and said shortly, Yeah, I manage to make some simple food for myself...sometimes. But I dont have a big appetite anyway, so I dont need to spend a lot of time of cooking, and...yeah. Aimee opened her mouth to speak and then paused. She bit back her original words and then said, You look like youve put on weight anyway. Janet looked closely at Mark and asked with even more concern in her voice, I think thats Aimees right. Maybe you should start getting out more. And you look a bit pale. Do you get any sun? Aimee coughed, and Mark shrugged as he replied, Yeah, I get what I need...whens the dessert coming?

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Janet smiled at Marks impatient query. The chef needs to take time to prepare it well. Its not an easy dish to do well. She paused and then added, You do remember how it was your fathers favorite dessert. Mark replied, Yeah, I remember...he choked to death eating that dessert. Aimee glared at Mark, and Janets smile suddenly faded as she looked down at her plate. Mark glanced at Aimee and then looked away quickly. He bit his lip and there was a strained silence. Aimee finished glowering at Mark, and then broke the silence by saying gently, I think we all love the dessert, and eating it just makes me just remember the good times we had with Dad. She paused and shot another look at Mark before continuing, Mom, do you remember that thing that happened the one time we were driving to Merion? Janet looked up with a faint smile on her face, and she answered without a trace of sadness in her voice. Mark eyed Aimee, and then rejoined the conversation with a cautious interjection. By the time the dessert had finally arrived, the conversation around the table was upbeat once again. Janet was laughing at a joke that Mark had made, when she looked up and saw Robert standing at the door of the dining room. There was still laughter in her voice as she said lightly, Come in Robert, join the party. Aimee swiveled around to see Robert, and Mark looked up briefly. Without a word, Robert walked to the table and slipped into a chair by Aimee, across from Mark and Janet. Mark and Aimee both busied themselves with the remains of their dessert, as Janet called for the butler to bring on the main course once again, and set an extra place. Then there was a silence, broken only by the silverware ringing against the plates. Robert was silent, staring at his brother and sister, who were eating with eyes trained on their plates. Janet watched the scene play out in silence before her. Inwardly she sighed, but she smiled and said, So Aimee, do you want Robert to know what happened today so far?

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Aimee glanced briefly at her mother, and observed her smile and the look behind it. Slowly, she turned back to Robert, who was still sitting patiently, and said, with humor in her voice, We cleaned Marks apartment. Robert cast a look of disdain at Marks head, still bowed over his plate, glanced at his mother with a quizzical look, and opened his mouth to speak. But as he did so, Aimee squeezed his arm, softly. Robert gave her a quick look, and slowly closed his mouth. He cleared his throat, and tried again. Slowly, the words came, with a faint trace of irony. That sounds...nice. You must have spent some quality time together. Aimee smiled. We did. ****************************** The Conrads had moved to the sitting room, and within minutes Mark was asleep on a couch. Aimee and Janet sat together on another couch, while Robert took a seat across the room from them. As they talked, Janet and Aimee sank into the comfortable sofa, but Robert remained straight and still in his chair. Robert looked at his sister, reclining in comfort on the couch, before saying, The food was good, mother. Thank you for that. Janet smiled, but Robert continued, But I usually take my lunch at the office. In fact, I cant remember the last time I had lunch here. Is that a good thing? Aimee asked. She was still full from the food, and she spoke slowly and lazily. Is it a good thing that I ate dinner here? After all, I do have several important business matters that are on my schedule, urgently needing to be attended to. You could always have just not come, Aimee said with a sigh. Robert paused before he replied, No, I did come today, because you know what, Aimee? You asked me to. And when Aimee

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asks me to do something, that always means she has some ulterior motive for it. Aimee appeared ready to sit up and issue a rejoinder, but instead only stared at Robert. Janets smile had disappeared long before. So, then, may I ask, Robert continued, since you dont deny that you did have an ulterior motive, may I ask, younger sister, what your motive was? Slowly Aimee pushed herself from the couch into a sitting position. She took a deep breath, and then said to Robert, Is it wrong to ask all of my family to come together to have an enjoyable time together? Robert smiled and shook his head. Thats just your outward motive. Whats the real reason for your asking me to come? This has to do with Mark, obviously, because its not a coincidence you suddenly decided to drag him out of his dump, after not seeing him for six months, at the same time you asked me to lunch, for the first time in a very long time. Aimee glared at Robert and said coldly, I gave you my reason. There is no extra angle. I just wanted to have a nice time with my family. Is that so difficult to understand? Aimees voice began to rise, and her last words were just below shouting-level. Robert watched her emotion passively, and replied, I really dont want to get into another discussion about saving Mark, or whatever you plan on doing with him. Hes an adult whos made clear choices all his life that show the only thing he can do is selfdestruct. He nearly flunked out of high school, shouldnt have even stepped onto a college campus, and the only reason he was expelled after two years in university was that I personally pleaded his case and prevented him from being expelled earlier. He is a lazy goodfor-nothing, and after so many years, I dont know how you and mother cannot see the point. As I said, hes going to ruin his life completely, sooner or later, and if you try to help, all youll do is just get pulled down with him.

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Aimee looked at Robert with an almost puzzled look on her face, You lived with Mark, in the same house, and you dont believe he can reform himself? If youre asking me if I believe in the basic goodness of human nature and the ability of humans to reform themselves toward goodness instead of sinking further into depravity...the answer is definitely no. Robert eyes looked beyond Aimee, and for several seconds there was a silence. Robert rose to his feet suddenly and looked at his watch. I have to go. I think Ive spent more than enough time here. Janet, who had been quiet since Aimee and Robert had turned the conversation to Mark, looked up and said with consternation, But when will I see you again? And when will we have another meal like this again? Aimee laid a hand on her mothers shoulder, and said to Robert, Well have another of these quite soon, because I have a feeling that life will be getting a lot better sooner, for all of us. Robert almost appeared to roll his eyes towards the ceiling as he turned toward the door. Wait, Robert! You cant leave yet. Aimee spoke commandingly. Robert did not stop, but he turned half-around and said, I said, Im busy, I have much more important matters that I need to get to. Just give me two minutes, and Ill show you how life will be getting better for all of us, all right? Aimees last words almost had a note of pleading. Robert seemed to sigh, but he turned and stood, halfway between them and the door. Aimee made sure that Robert would not leave before she walked over to where Mark fully stretched out on the couch. Quietly, she bent down and said softly, Hey... Mark did not fully awaken immediately, and it took several seconds as he shook his head to clear his stupor, before he seemed to realize that Aimee was standing over him, with his mother and brother looking on.

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Youve already been sleeping for a while now. Its already getting dark, Aimee said. Mark grinned sheepishly, and stretched slowly and luxuriously. As he pushed himself into a sitting position, Aimee laid her hand on his arm and said softly, We have proposition to make to you. Mark squinted as he looked around the room at his familys faces. Then he turned back to Aimee and looked at her questioningly. I know you enjoyed the lunch today, and having all of us back together again. And being down where you are we never do get see you. So, we were just thinking that maybe it would be a good if...if you moved back in here. You know, just to get a temporary rest before you move on. What is this? Mark now was no longer groggy, and he said more loudly, Is this why you took me here, and filled my stomach, and even brought in Robert, to tell me Im still a kid who needs looking after? Mark could feel the anger rising as he thought about the indignity Aimee was proposing he subject himself to. Mark knew he was self-sufficient, and he could live his life by himself. He was no longer a teenager, and submitting himself to someone elses rules in their household was something he would never consider. Dont talk like that, Mark. You can do a lot of things, but youre not going to do anything the way you are living now. Why do you think I took you out of the Bronx? Just trust me, will you? If you want to lean on me, then you have to trust what Im saying. Mom would agree with me too. Listen, it honestly wouldnt have to be for that long, alright? We all agree that it would be a great idea, Aimee smiled her brilliant, reassuring smile which had taken in so many men before Mark. Marks anger started to fade, and he bowed his head. Then he realized exactly what Aimee was doing, and he looked up with a hard face. I dont want to do it. Inwardly, Aimee cringed, as Marks reaction was exactly the opposite of what she had hoped for. However, she kept calm and opened her mouth to reply.

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Suddenly, Robert interrupted. Dont be a fool. You know what Aimee is saying is the truth. Do you honestly think you can live your life the way you have been living it? Youre going to kill yourself sooner or later, or get yourself killed, living the way you are now. In any case, you dont have any money left, and you have no job either. You have no choice but to take her offer. Mark looked from Aimee to Robert, and any tenderness he might have had disappeared. Slowly, he stood and walked towards Robert. He stopped two feet in front of him and looked him in the eye. Robert looked down at him without expression and held his gaze. After two seconds, Mark looked down. Then he said to Robert without looking at him, I said I didnt want to, and I meant it. His voice trembled, holding a rage that simmered just below the service. Without looking back to Aimee or his mother, Mark walked out of the door. On the way out, he deliberately bumped into Robert, but Robert held his ground and ignored the contact. A few seconds later, they heard a tremendous slam as the great front doors were violently closed, and then the crunch of footsteps on the gravel in the driveway. Janet looked at Robert with bewilderment, and Aimee glared at him. Finally, Aimee said, almost choking, How could you say that? Robert showed no emotion as he returned their gaze, and he said flatly, I spoke the truth. As Ive said multiple times before, Mark cant face the fact that hes walking on a path of selfdestruction. If you cant recognize that, youll be hurt more than you can imagine when he does annihilate himself. Robert turned to go without another word, leaving Aimee and Janet staring after him. After several seconds of silence, Aimee slowly walked back across the room and sat down beside her mother. Thats it, Mom. We cant do it anymore. Mark rejected the help we gave him. Theres no turning back for him. He can make it on his own, without his family. He wanted it that way, and we can let him. Not even Robert can stop him. Janet said nothing, only shook her head sadly.

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Aimee burst out, Mark is so stupid. What is he doing, hes wasting away his life, and he expects us to cover up for him. Why is he doing this, Mom? I just dont understand it! Janet had no words of explanation for her. She could only hug her. Aimee broke from the embrace first. Janet was crying, but Aimee had no need to wipe her eyes. Instead, her jaw was set, and she turned quickly on her heel and almost ran from the room. Once again, Janet stood alone in the darkness, the emptiness and silence of the huge mansion weighing her down. She heard Aimee and Robert exchange words outside. A few minutes later, and she heard first one car, then another start up. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the wall. No words left to say, no more tears to cry, and no one left to sympathize. ****************************** Mark sat on the subway, staring vacantly out the window of the train as the black walls of the tunnel ran by. He had had to dig through the last few cents in his pockets to find the money to buy a single ticket to get him back to near his apartment. It had taken several minutes to find the requisite amount, and it had only furthered his black mood. He could feel a steadily building resentment towards Aimee. And his mom, because she probably was influencing it all too. He did not feel outright anger, but instead a deep resentment in his heart against those who dared to impose on his own life. What were they thinking, that he would go back like a child to his mothers house, and have to submit to their rules all over again? He wasnt so gullible. But as those thoughts of rebellion ran through his head, another thought pushed back, and didnt allow the resentment to completely overrun his mental state. There was an image of Aimee, smiling reassuringly, with almost a note of pleading in her voice. That image was repeated over and over, because she had had to do

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that so many times to convince Mark to trust her. Mark thought back not just to the conversation that had just taken place, but to the time before that, a month ago, then two weeks before that, another time a month before that...The images kept repeating. Then there was his mother, not as persuasive, not as aggressive in trying to get him to come back home as they were always saying. She simply stood in the background, looking at him with a mixture maternal disapproval and bewildered grief. She never said anything, but looked at him in the eye with that expression. Then his mind turned to Robert, standing there confidently, as he always did, watching Aimee try to gently compel Mark. Mark saw again the derision just below Roberts expression, and as he replayed Roberts caustic remarks, Mark felt that surge of resentment again. Roberts image began repeating over and over, and overwhelmed all the other images. In his mind, Mark convinced himself that he had indeed made the right choice.

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Chapter 4

Mark trudged up the steps which he had climbed up many times before. His apartment was on the third floor, which he hadnt wanted he had gone for a ground floor apartment, but the landlord didnt allow him to choose. In his haste, Mark did not have the time to argue, and he did not think that the landlord would have been in the mood. And by now, Mark knew that if a landlord was unhappy about a complaining renter, and had the right connections, he could find a few muscle men to beat some sense into the unfortunate dissenter. And Mark was happy in the end in his six months here two tenants on the ground floor had their flats broken into. The one resident who had been stupid enough to resist was still in the hospital. Thinking of the crime committed reminded Mark of the car he had just parked downstairs. It had seemed small and mundane at the mansion, but here it shone like a diamond, and was a sitting duck for a break-in. He arrived at the top of his climb, his sides moderately heaving. It was funny to Mark, since when he first came here in May he could scale the stairs two a time, and arrive at the top flight barely breathing hard. Now, he moved slowly, and he was always out of breath. Mark paused at the door of his own apartment, taking in for the first time the real appearance of the entrance to his living space. The door was chipped, cracked, and nearly sagging off its hinges.

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There were also a few bullet holes scattered randomly around the surface. Most of them were already there, but one had come during Marks stay there. Mark shuddered at the memory and reached for his key. The door of an apartment a few doors down opened, and the head of Jamal poked out. Hey man, what are you doing back here? Mark grinned, and replied, Ah, I just went uptown with my sister for a while. You know, just doing stuff, had lunch, and whatever. Thats all. That was your sister? Jamal smiled and shook his head, Anyway, um, about last night... Jamal stepped outside his apartment, and walked towards Mark, looking earnestly and almost pleadingly at Mark. Mark looked down uncomfortably, wishing he could step inside his apartment and ignore Jamal. Jamal stopped a few feet away, and leaned awkwardly against the wall. You know, I was just letting off steam, I didnt really mean any of what I was saying. Mark looked fixedly at the wall, and said quietly, You think? You sounded pretty strong to me. Jamal let out a long breath, and looked to the ceiling. All I can say is...Im just really sorry. Like I said, I was just....I had a bad day. Jamal paused for a reply from Mark, but Mark only glanced briefly at Jamal before going back to examining the wall. The awkward silence extended for several seconds, and seemed like an eternity to both parties. Mark bit his lip, took a deep breath, looked Jamal in the eye, and asked, So do you want to start to playing again, then? He broke into a smile. Jamal grinned as well, and slapped Mark on the shoulder. Then he paused, and the awkward silence descended again. With a strained grin, Jamal looked up, and said slowly, Listen, theres a lot of stuff you can get into around here. Really, theres a lot of things that you can do thats more than just online

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games, you know? He paused to judge Marks reaction before rushing on hurriedly, Of course, what weve done is better than any of them...but theres other things we can do. Look, if you have time I can show you around, help you do some things. If you meet the right people, and they like you, you can get some good friends. You know, like people who can help you when you need something. Mark half shook his head. Uh, I dont know about that. I mean, I know I have some friends of my own that can take care of me. Friends? Seriously, you only see me the whole time. Do you ever go out any other time? OK, thats not funny. You have no idea the people I can ask for help. Mark felt a little anger begin to rise, and he said a little louder, What are you asking me? Is it really worth it for me to go out here and maybe get mugged or shot or arrested, just to shake hands with someone? Like I said, I just need to scrape a few bucks together every week, and we can keep on doing what weve always been doing for a long time. Listen. If you just hang out here all day, and people never see you doing anything, then theyre gonna get the wrong idea. Maybe theyll think youre dealing drugs or something like that. So? Theres a thousand guys out there doing that. Theres a guy three doors down, in this very hall, who sells it openly. No, you dont get it. Anything you do, its supposed to be controlled by one of the big guys. You know, one of gang leaders. Havent you ever heard of them? Yeah, Ive heard about them. Who doesnt know about Antonio? Whats your point, Jamal? You cant mess with Antonio around here. And everywhere else you go near to here, theres someone you cant cross, and if you try to do something without asking them first, then you got serious trouble. They check you out, and the guys they send dont ask a lot of questions. Mark was no longer angry, and checked a smart reply. He felt his heart going a little faster.

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My point is, Jamal continued, you got to have the right connections. I can help you with that. Forget your big city friends...forget your sister, and whoever else. I can show you the right people to shake hands with. Jamal stepped closer and shot a darting glance around to see if there were any eavesdroppers on their conversation. OK...I know Antonio. I could walk right into his house, and I could introduce you to him. Thats power, man. You get the right connection to him, and no ones gonna mess with you, forever. Mark nodded slowly. Jamal smiled reassuringly, Were friends, dude, and you can just follow me. Just stay up tonight. Maybe I can show you around, see who I can introduce you to. Hey, its already 9:40. Whats gonna happen the rest of the night? Jamal smiled condescendingly and replied, Everything, man. Just stay up and Ill get back to you. Mark nodded, and they both turned back to their own apartments. Inside familiar surroundings, Mark sat down on the clean couch, and waited for his heart rate to slow down. Reflecting on what Jamal had just told him with a calmer mind, he could see that Jamal really was looking out for him, like a true friend would. He smiled at the thought he had a real friend, and Jamal looked out for him, and vice versa. It was great. And in no time, they would be back to what he really wanted to do playing those games to his hearts content. Mark slowly stretched out on the couch, and lulled himself to sleep, forgetting the emotional roller coaster of the morning and afternoon he had experienced with his family, and instead focusing on the peaceful thoughts of his new friend, his first true friend. He dozed off with a grin still spread over his face. ****************************** A heavy knocking on the door woke Mark from his slumber, and the voice from outside sounded, Hey man, its Jamal.

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Mark quickly jumped out of the couch, and ran to open the door. He smiled at the sight of Jamal standing there, waiting. Jamal did not return the smile, and asked soberly, Are you ready? Ive got a big night tonight. Marks grin widened, and he replied with enthusiasm, Yeah, Im ready. Lets go. Jamal turned and ran quickly ran down the steps, while Mark followed more slowly behind. As they exited the building, Mark shouted to Jamal, So, whats going to happen? Where are we going? Jamal turned back with an unreadable expression on his face. Just wait, youll see, OK? Lets go. With that, he turned around and set a brisk pace into the night. Mark wanted to question Jamal further, but soon he was too out of breath to ask. Jamal seemed to have no inclination to make conversation, and they walked in silence. After what seemed at least thirty minutes of walking, Mark was about to ask where exactly Jamal was leading him when Jamal stopped short in front of a house, and motioned for Mark to do the same. As Mark stood looking at what seemed a common, mundane house, Jamal said in a deadly serious tone, Just wait here. Dont say anything, Ill handle it. You say something wrong, and you get shot. So keep your mouth shut. Mark looked for a sign that Jamal was kidding, but Jamal only stared hard at Mark. Mark nodded. Jamal walked up to the door and knocked. After a few seconds of waiting, the door opened slightly, and a person behind the door held a whispered conversation with Jamal. Jamal gestured back at Mark, and the person looked hard at Mark. Mark shrank in his place, feeling small and pathetic. Finally, Jamal turned to Mark and beckoned him into the house. As they entered, Mark felt his heart pounding. He had never been a social person, and didnt do well meeting new people. And he didnt think that the people in this house would be like those he had met at his mothers parties.

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They stood in the hallway. Jamal was staring at nothing in the distance, and Mark tried not to show the nervousness that was making his knees shake. The night had taken a decidedly different turn than he had expected, and he was already wondering why he had agreed to it in the first place. Mark turned as a man entered the front room. The man slapped hands with Jamal, and once again, whispered words were exchanged while they looked at Mark out the corner of their eyes. Mark looked down at his feet. The mans stare made him feel uncomfortable, and it even seemed to remind him of Robert, which did not make Mark any happier. The man now approached. He said shortly, Im Antonio. Jamal here tells me that youre Mark. What do you have to offer me? Mark was caught off guard from the first sentence, shocked that this was actually the Antonio that he had heard so much about, who everyone talked about in hushed tones. Mark could see now why he was the great leader everyone said he was. But then he was taken aback by the question Antonio had posed to him. Mark had no idea of what answer to give, and he could only stammer and try to avoid Antonios gaze. The silence was deafening, and seemed to last forever. Suddenly, he felt a hand clap on his shoulder. It felt massive and as hard as iron, and Mark flinched. Antonio gave no sign of noticing, and looked straight at Mark.. Jamal says you have the skills that make you worthwhile. But no one gets my respect, my trust, or my protection without proving himself. You better hope you can give yourself a good showing, because no one can stand against me. The hand tightened into a viselike grip, before relaxing and patting Mark lightly on the shoulder. Antonio exchanged more whispered words with Jamal, then left the room. Jamal glanced at Mark rubbing his shoulder where Antonio had squeezed it, and said flatly, This way. Jamal walked down the hall, which was, like everything else, shrouded in the darkness, and turned left into a large room, which

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looked like a living room. There were several men sprawled on the chairs there. Mark thought that they looked like football players, or ex-convicts, or worse. Jamal nodded to a man sitting in the corner on the right, and they exchanged greetings. When the man stood up, he towered at least six inches over Mark. He reached out a giant hand towards Mark, and Mark slapped it weakly. Staring at Mark with what seemed like contempt, he said Jared. I guess were having you with us for tonight. He looked down at Marks bare hands and asked, Dont you have gloves? You need gloves for tonight. Mark stared dumbly at his clean white hands as he realized that all of the men, Jamal included, were wearing gloves. Before he could reply, Jared snorted, pushed his way past Mark, and walked out of the room without another word. Jamal indicated the vacant seat, and Mark sat gingerly on the hard chair. He sat staring the wall, trying to avoid the gaze of the other men in the room. As Jamal began to converse with them, Mark stared fixedly anywhere in particular where he would not meet the gaze of the rest of the group. He almost jumped when he heard himself being addressed. Hey, man. Howd you get on this job? Mark tentatively met the eye of the speaker, then quickly looked away again. Speaking to the window, he said, Uh, I came with Jamal. The man grunted. Mark shot a glance at his friend, but Jamal was looking at the floor. Mark was very thankful when the questioner fell silent, and the conversation moved to other topics. Eventually there was a signal for everyone to move out. They started to leave the room, and Mark found an opportunity to whisper to Jamal, What are you getting me into? Jamal didnt answer for a minute before saying almost inaudibly, Were going on a job for Antonio. I told you to keep your mouth shut. Mark fell silent, but his heart rate spiked. They went into the central room of the house. In the middle of the room, three tables contained more guns than Mark had seen in his whole life. A man behind him pushed him towards it. Take your pick, man, Mark heard him say.

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Mark stood at the table, in a daze, looking down dumbly at the assortment of firepower. Eventually, as the other men began picking their own weapons, Jamal nudged Mark, and handed him a handgun to Mark. Dont stand there looking stupid, youre going to need a gun. Take one. Mark took one, his hands closing over the dark barrel. He felt its cold roughness, and how incredibly heavy, almost enough that he couldnt carry it with one hand. It looked so big, he wondered how it could be called a pistol. His index finger felt the trigger, and tensed a little. He felt the trigger sliding back, and he let go quickly, his heart racing even faster. He could not even imagine pointing the gun at a person, pulling the trigger, and shooting to kill. Mark heard a deafening sound outside the house. He crouched defensively, ready for a firefight to break out, but after a few seconds, he only heard the laughter of those in the room. The ringing in his ears was replaced by a burning sensation. He should have remembered that gunfire was common around this area. Mark realized that the men in the room were the ones who shot the guns and caused all the commotion; they were the gangsters everyone talked about. And now he was one of them. His mind struggled to grasp how he had managed to be pulled into the whole business. Jamal and he were now alone. Mark looked at Jamal, questioning what he was going to do now, still wondering how Jamal had gotten him into this. Jamal avoided his eye and turned to the door. Lets go. Weve got some business to do. ****************************** The men in the car were silent, as they drove towards a destination that was unknown to Mark. The slums flashed past Mark, with dim shadows moving in the weak light from the street lights above.

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In his hand, Mark held his pistol. It still felt foreign, and Mark felt sure that he could never use it. But then he had never imagined that he would be here, on a mission for the most powerful gangster in New York, with a car-load of hardened criminals. And Jamal. Mark kept wanting to break the silence, and ask somebody what in the world they were planning to do, but he knew he was not brave enough to open his mouth. In the dark, his hands were trembling, and he took his hand off the gun, afraid of what his shaking finger might do if it were on the trigger. The car suddenly ground to a halt, and Jared started speaking. Thats the store right there were targeting. He pointed a nondescript housing complex, in front of which stood a small store, the sign blinking faintly, Coffee, Beer, Cigarettes. To Mark, it seemed to look familiar. But Jared was still talking. The owner is thinking about telling the police how hes got a little side business selling our drugs, Jared continued. So, we cant let him do that. We have to go in and scare him just enough to keep his mouth shut for a little longer. Then, when we find a replacement, we can finish the job. Jared chuckled, and then added, I do the talking, and Jamal and Mark, Mark jumped at hearing his name you stand guard outside The men in the front climbed out. Jamal also began to get out, but Mark frantically pulled on his sleeve. Jamal, what did you get me into? Jamal looked back with apparent disgust, although Mark could not be certain of anything in the darkness. He shrugged off Marks hand and said with disdain, Didnt you hear Jared? We have a simple, easy job to do, and if you keep your stupid head down, you wont get shot. Hearing those words delivered with force, Mark felt only an overwhelming desire to get away. He knew now that, indeed, he was very stupid for letting himself be pulled into the whole mess. But he could still throw the gun away, make a break for it, and no one would ever know.

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He hesitated for a moment, tensing for the burst of action. But in the split-second of waiting, Jamal grabbed his arm. Are you getting out or not? Get your behind off the seat. Now. The words and tone of his voice left no choice for Mark to clamber out shakily and hesitantly. He slammed the door behind him, which drew a death stare from Jamal. Marks companions were now heading that way, and Mark could see their hands in their jackets, feeling their guns. Mark was holding his own by his side, but he decided that it would be better to put it in his pocket. When he attempted to shove it in, only the barrel fit, and the handle was left sticking out, announcing its presence to anyone who might be looking. He wished desperately he could throw the gun in the gutter, and run for his life, any direction other than the one he was now taking. But he was walking in the middle of the pack, and he knew that like a coward, he had no nerve left to make a dash for it. As he looked at the store more closely, Mark realized that it was the convenience store only five minutes walk from his house, which put him even more on edge. As Jared entered Mark fell behind and took up a position outside the door, a few feet from Jamal. Jamal slumped against the wall, looking bored, his gun hanging loose from his hand. Mark twitched nervously and turned to watch the proceedings through the window. Jared had a gun in the face of the cashier, and his shouts were audible through the glass. Youd better get Marcel out here, fast, or youre a dead man. The luckless cashier gulped and turned to find Marcel. Mark was still watching the cashier when he saw a sudden movement in the background. As his eyes focused, he could see the dim outlines of forms moving in the back of the store, hiding behind the shelves of produce. Mark furrowed his brow, thinking that maybe he should warn one of his companions. Before he could even turn to Jamal, two deafening shots rang out. In the store, Jared crumpled to the ground, and outside, Jamal

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was suddenly awake, and already rushing inside. More bullets were flying, and Mark flattened himself on the ground. Jamal was already inside, and Mark knew that this was his chance to escape. As glass shattered above his head, Mark raised himself onto his haunches. Another gun shot gave him motivation, and he dashed across the street, crouching low and trying not to be seen, waiting for the bullet in the back he just knew was coming. Safely on the other side, Mark attempted to shield his bulk behind a trash can. The bullets continued to whiz inches over his head, it seemed to him. He curled himself into a ball, listening to the shouts and gunfire. Although he was shaking, he could not resist peeking over the trash can lid to catch a glimpse of the action. He looked just in time to see Jamal run out of the store at full speed. Shortly after, another man ran out, firing at the fleeing figure. They disappeared down a side street, and the shots eventually faded, but Mark was still fixed to his hiding place. He tried to grasp the fact that he had just witnessed a gang fight in the middle of the city. But even as he strained to hear in the awful silence, he could hear no sirens approaching, no people running down the street to see the commotion. It was if nothing had happened. It was at least ten minutes before Mark rose slowly and cautiously, looking at every shadow to see if there was another gangster ready to rise and shoot him. He summoned the nerve, and then dashed back across the street. After making sure there was no movement in any direction, he peered through the shattered glass of the storefront. He could see nothing moving, only bodies lying in awkward positions, which he passed hurriedly over. There were also dark stains on the floor, on the shelves, and on the walls, but he tried to ignore those as well. A sudden movement caught Marks eyes, and he saw that the cashier was lying behind the counter, wounded but still alive, weakly moving his arms and trying to attract help. For several seconds Mark watched him, knowing that he had the moral obligation to go in and help him. But his feet felt bound to go only one way, as far away from this scene of mass murder as they could.

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Mark rose to go, but suddenly he felt a hand paw at his shoulder. He nearly screamed, and turned to see Jamal, holding his left shoulder, where a dark stain was spreading across his shirt. Where were you, man? Are you a coward? Jamal asked in a whisper, You just bailed out on me in there. Mark, still looking in horror at the gunshot wound of Jamal, stammered a weak apology. Did you shoot the counter guy in there? Jamal asked urgently. Uh, no, of course not, why... You have to go in there and shoot him. He saw what happened, he cant be a witness. Shoot him. Mark started to back away, repelled by only the thought, and knowing he could never go through with it. He could never shoot someone in cold blood. Jamal saw him walking away, and started to walk after him, which caused Mark to back away even faster, and trip over his own feet. Jamal loomed over Mark, and Mark shielded himself, expecting Jamal to deal him a death blow. Instead, Jamal only grabbed the gun from Marks pocket. He shot one more disgusted look at Mark, and entered the store again. Mark turned away sickened. He covered his ears to protect against the blast of gunfire, but he still felt the vibrations of the shot in the air. But when he turned back to the window, he saw Jamal beckoning to him. He knew that he could not, and should not, but then he realized he was already in a mess deeper than he could ever get out of. As he walked slowly over the threshold, he avoided looking at the body he knew would be sprawled on the floor behind the counter. You know, Mark, Jamal began slowly, speaking more soberly and seriously than Mark had ever heard him, The past six months were the longest, worst months of my life. I was assigned to you, did you know that? Antonio, see, hes my older brother, and he put me on you. And I cant believe I had to do everything I did, just because youre the brother of Robert Conrad.

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Jamal was breathing more heavily, and more quickly he continued, I told him, after a month of it, doing the most stupid things ever, you didnt know anything. And Im right, because you dont take your eyes off the stupid screen to know what anyone in your family is doing. And then today you nearly left for good, and Antonio nearly killed because I nearly let a guy like you go, even though youre worthless. So I had to speed things up and bring you along tonight, and now you made this whole thing a mess. Jamal paused, but Mark was listening in silent shock, with no response to the revelations he could never have guessed at before. With a twisted smile, Jamal said, Its over. This mission is failed, and Im gonna get the blame for that. And youre a total failure, youre worth nothing, did you know that? But Im gonna get the blame for that too. I know you know what its like, having an older brother better than you. But you really dont understand anything; you always had it easy, I remember what you told me. You had a piece of cake, and you only failed because youre worthless. Me, I had no father, no mother, and Antonio always pushed me like a slave. My life was a...yeah, it was a living nightmare. But now, I just dont care anymore. I can let myself go, and you know why? Because I never got any chances in life, but I see you, and you get everything, and then totally waste your life. Lifes not fair, and I never get to control anything. But just this once, I get control. Jamal paused, and then added, Go back to your old life, Mark. I dont see why you ever left it. His long monologue over, and no words left to say, Jamal put the gun to his temple. As he did so, Mark looked him straight into the eye. Mark could see the mixture of anger, fear, and disgust in Jamals eyes, a look that would haunt Mark for a long time to come. Jamal fired a single bullet. The gun fell lifeless from his hand. The body slumped forward and fell against Mark, the flowing blood staining his clothes. Mark let it fall, and stood paralyzed, his mouth still open, looking down at the life, ended.

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The events and the emotional roller coaster of the last twenty minutes were overwhelming, inundating him with conflicting emotions. And just now, the one he had trusted to lead him through what was now an unimaginable nightmare, the one friend he had thought he had had, was dead, by his own hand. Slowly, he knelt down to pick up the gun, feeling vaguely that he should not let it lie there. He paused on his knees, and stiffly took Jamals hand. Already, it felt cold and lifeless. He held it awkwardly for a few seconds, and then let it flop to the ground. He tried to look at Jamals face, but found it impossible to do so. Slowly, he raised himself off his knees, and headed towards the door, shuffling as if he were sleep-walking. He raised his eyes from the ground, and suddenly he was snapped out of his stupor. He saw the face, the old man standing outside the store with his mouth open, staring through the broken glass and taking in the whole scene. The dead man behind the counter. The dead man in front of the counter. And Mark walking out, with blood covering his clothes. Mark felt the cold chill spreading through his body again. As the gun dropped from his limp hand, he broke into a sprint. He ran into the night, fleeing the accusing stares, the sirens now finally approaching, and fleeing the death and destruction behind him. He fled into the darkness, letting it envelope and hide him. ****************************** William was an old man, and he had seen many things in his time. What he had just witnessed hardly surprised him. He had been walking to get his nightly dose of alcohol, when he had heard the shots in the distance. Although the fight sounded as if it was in the vicinity of the store, he hadnt been sure where the shots originated, so he just continued on his way to the store. The night air was silent once again, but when he was only steps from the entrance, he heard another shot. He stopped immediately, and waited as he heard angry voices. This was followed by one more shot, and then silence. When he did summon the courage to walk the few more steps to front of the store, he surveyed with trepidation the bodies on

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the floor, the produce from the shelves lying on the ground, and the shattered windows. But he quickly forgot about all of those when he noticed that there was still movement in the store. He saw the murderer with the gun in his hand, slowly walking out with his head down. William froze at the same time as the man saw him. They looked at each other for a few seconds, before the killer suddenly dropped the gun and ran out the door. William had ducked when the man started running, expecting to feel the fatal shot any second, and he looked on in shocked silence as the man dropped the gun and ran away into the night. Once William had recovered from his surprise, he was instantly sure that the murderer would not be caught by any police pursuit tonight. The lackadaisical attitude of the cops around the Bronx was infamous among its residents. Nevertheless he decided to stay around and see what would happen. After fifteen minutes, the second shock of the night for William came when he heard police sirens in the distance. In his experience, they usually took closer to an hour if they came at all. He was further surprised to see not one, or even a pair, but four police cars come screeching down the block. At least half a dozen policemen jumped out and began to examine the scene, efficiently and quickly. The usual investigative party consisted of one elderly policemen, nearing retirement, and still dozy from sleep or alcohol. This time, though, they moved with purpose and precise. To William, they looked like the police he saw on TV; they were too good to be real life. But here they were. William was a law-abiding citizen, mostly, but he decided that he had tonight he had seen enough; being a witness to multiple deaths would complicate his life unnecessarily. He began to sneak out the alley, away from the lights of the crime scene, but he heard a commanding, Stop right there! He almost decided to run for it, but decided that it would be better to surrender to the law. He turned around to see a policeman brandishing his gun. Im just an innocent bystander, sir, said William wearily. Why were you running away?

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Already frustrated with the unnecessary question, William snapped, Would you stick around a murder scene yourself? The policeman holstered his gun and ordered William to approach. William now dearly wished he had never witnessed the whole scene in the first place, as he knew that being the only witness would make him a focus with the law, and he never liked attention from that particular area. After a few preliminaries questions, they brought in a tape recorder, a notebook, and what seemed to William to be the professional interrogator. He began by asking William, What did you see? I saw a whole lot of bodies, just like you can see right now. I also saw a young, white man bending over a body with a gun in his hand. Then when he saw me, I ducked out of his way, he ran through the door, and disappeared down that alley. The questioner began scribbling on his notepad; Williams pointing finger sparked furious activity in the waiting cops, and within thirty seconds half a dozen of them had disappeared down the dark alley. For once, William felt that people actually listened to him when he talked. He almost smiled, and he turned back to the officer in a much better story-telling mood. ****************************** Mark was running now, running harder than he had run in a very long time. He was panting, gasping for breath so hard he felt like he could not get the air into his lungs fast enough. But he did not dare to look back. He could not slow down, could not turn back. Now he could never go back. Mark had seen the look of the man back there, who had seen him crouched over a dead body. He, Mark, had been standing there, with the blood still fresh on his clothes. There could be no doubt in the mans mind, and no uncertainty. Just an hour or two ago Mark had still been a normal person. And then Jamal had led him into this. Mark could see it now, with bitter clearness. His lungs were burning, but his mind was crystal

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clear. He could now see the naivety, the stupidity of his own actions. He had let Jamal pull him in. What was Jamal? He was not really a friend. He had just gone along with what Mark wanted. Mark burned as he remembered the words of Jamal, telling the truth of the situation. Mark realized now, too late, how much of a sham it had been. And Mark saw himself as he really was, as a fool. He was too simple, too stupid to see beyond what mattered right then, and to look beyond the pleasures of the moment. Now all he could see was iron gates, bars, handcuffs, prison cells. All the product of his own stupidity. Mark now wished he was still stupid and naive, so he could not see what would happen. Instead, he saw it all. And so he ran. He ran, as always did. It was not even the first time today he had run from the law, and from the authority in his life. But justice would not be so kind to him as family. He could see now, that this justice was what he deserved, after what he had done to his own family. He tried to fight back in his own mind against that thought. He would be tried for murder, and he was not guilty, he had done nothing. But it was hard to convince himself that he was really completely innocent. He shut his mind from that stare, from the look of that old man. He had seen him there, with the literally smoking gun. It had been plain on his face those eyes said he was guilty. The court of public opinion had tried him, and Mark could not be innocent. Those eyes would remember him forever his face would be branded on that mans mind forever, and through him, the police would run him down, eventually. Mark was still running, randomly and with no purpose other than to just get away. It was the dead of night, and he had no idea where he was. He ran around a corner, and finally stopped from absolute exhaustion. His legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed in the middle of the street. There were still a few people who walked by at this time of night, but they ignored him. He was only another body lying on the street, another drunk, or another addict.

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Lying on the ground, trying the breath as his body burned all over, Mark could see that Jamal had taken the easy way out. Now Jamal did not have to face the consequences. Mark knew he himself would have to. For maybe the first time in his life, he would see his actions cause reactions. Mark lay in the street, feeling as if the world was pressing down on him. He almost wished a random stranger would walk up and shoot him. Now he wished that that he hadnt dropped his gun in his rush to escape the penetrating stare of the old man. Slowly, agonizingly, Mark dragged himself to his feet, but no longer to run. Instead, he half-crawled, half-staggered into a side alley. He settled himself on the ground, his back wedged between a trash can and a wall. He let himself go, and for the first time since they he and Jamal had entered that house, his muscles relaxed. Mark slept, and finally his worries no longer troubled him.

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Chapter 5

On this particular morning, Gregory Cade arrived at his office a full hour and a half before his customary time. He unlocked the door to his office hurriedly. That one final case the previous night had kept him awake for hours in bed. Any case that involved gang violence kept him up late. The mayor had staked his election campaign on the claim that he had successfully combated, and nearly wiped out, the epidemic of gang violence. The mayor was now relying on him to act swiftly and firmly, because a bad case like the one Greg was considering could make headlines, and break trust with the public. This was definitely a bad case. Two men dead, shot in the middle of the night, with blood spilled all over. Apparently, there was a meeting between two rival gangs, they had a shootout, and then cut and ran. One of them came back, and he shot two men. Then he ran as well. There had been a police team nearby, looking to stop this very thing, but they got there too late to even catch the last fleeing criminal. It all would probably look very bad in the morning papers. Greg didnt have to guess who the rival gangs were. Antonio was well-known around the Bronx, even in the greater New York area as being the leader of the largest gang in New York. The second gang, though they were more subtle, but Greg just knew that Robert was mixed up in it, somehow. He knew that Robert had many, many underworld connections. The success of his hotel

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business was not just down to good business sense Robert had influence where it counted, but he was smart enough not to implicate himself with anything remotely illegally. The store in which the fight had broken out had been owned by Marcel Hines. He was known as a small fish in the criminal circles, a low-level middleman working between the dealers and the addicts. Probably, he had been smart enough, and foolish enough, to work for both Antonio and Roberts gangs, cutting a profit both ways. But of course, traitors to both sides were always caught, eventually now Hines was dead, fatally caught up in the middle of gunfight. But why, Greg wondered, did one of them come back? The accounts from those nearby had confirmed that there had been a brief fight, and then each gang had collected the dead and wounded and fled. But then one gangster had returned and finished off the killing. And he had apparently been stupid enough to leave his gun and fingerprints in the store in his haste to get out after being discovered. Greg hoped the public and the mayor would be satisfied if they managed to catch just that one person. With a double murder, a guilty sentence would probably get the gangster a life sentence at least. They had only one eyewitness, who could probably hold up relatively well in court. Most importantly though, they had the murder weapon. The witness had seen him, through the storefront window, with the gun in his hand. When the murderer saw the witness, he dropped the gun and ran. Again, Greg wondered why. The gangs trained their men well; keeping hold of your gun was elementary, but now the anonymous killer had handed them his identity on a silver platter. It was unfortunate that he had escaped police pursuit, but that was only temporary. The fingerprints match on the gun had arrived overnight, and today they could begin their manhunt in earnest. Greg found the sheet he had requested when he left last night lying in the middle of his desk. He picked it up and saw in bold font the name Mark Conrad at the top.

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He sat down slowly on his office chair, and leaned back, looking out his window at the awakening city. The news was a surprise to him, but at the same time an opportunity. He needed time to think more deeply about it, as the implications troubled him. How deeply was Robert involved, Greg wondered. Could they pin him for this crime? It was the one big break that they needed, to be able to get such a major player in the world of underground crime. It was the kind of headline that the police department needed and the mayor. Catching Robert would definitely provide that boost. They had been so close before, but Robert was too smart. Maybe this time, Greg thought. But now the unknown in this complex equation was Mark. It had seemed good to Greg last night, but now it troubled him. How much did Mark really know? Would Robert help Mark when the police came after him? If Mark did know something, and they could get him to talk, then they would have the information they needed to nail Robert. But Greg just really didnt know about Mark no one did. Greg looked down again at the file on Mark. He was 23 years of age, currently without a job, and living in the Bronx, a very poor district of town. He had been to Harvard for three semesters, then dropped out. Greg had heard rumors that it was an expulsion, but had been smoothed over with a few extra donations from Robert. Robert was one of the most valued alumni of the college, and his money had financed many new buildings and projects for the university. Apparently, this had led them to tolerate the freewheeling of Mark for longer than would be usual for a normal student. But even millions could only stretch so far. Eventually, he had been kicked out quietly. As the report told him, the police on the scene had searched his apartment in the middle of the night, but of course he had not been back, and there was no material evidence in the apartment that pointed to his current whereabouts. A police net had spread out as far as possible over the surrounding area, but there had been no leads of any kind.

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Now they could only hope that Mark would try to come back to his apartment, or maybe go to his family for help. They had his family members homes under 24-hour surveillance. However, it was Robert that Greg was worried about, again. He could easily slip Mark past police surveillance and out of the country, through any one of his numerous connections. It all depended on how valuable Mark was. Another rumor Greg had heard said their relationship was rocky. But Greg did not base his decision-making process on unfounded gossip. To distract himself, Greg turned on the TV. He reluctantly turned the morning news on local channels to see what they had to say about the murders. It was there all right, plastered as the leading story on the morning newscast. A female anchor was intoning, Late last night, two men were shot to death in a store in the Bronx. Police believe that this was a result of gang violence but have declined to comment, saying only that the investigation was ongoing, and any further developments would be announced. She paused for effect, and then continued, This is the latest in a string of fatal shootings related to gangs throughout the Bronx and other parts of New York City. Police commissioner Gregory Cade said that capturing the killers is his priority, and the mayor has personally guaranteed a decrease in this gang violence in his new term. So far, though, there is no justice for the families of the deceased. Greg snorted as he listened to the hyperbole. He was not a very public person, and he abhorred the tabloid mentality of most of the media in the city. However, he was scheduled in a few minutes to make an announcement to the media about last nights shooting. He had hoped that he could bring the good news of the capture of the main suspect, but he had no such good news to relay. And so the headline would inevitably be, again, that the police had failed the people once again. Greg could already feel the camera lights. ******************************

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Mark groaned as he woke from a long, uncomfortable sleep. He was lying half on his side, still wedged up between the wall and the trash can. Now the sun was shining, hazily through the clouds, and he winced as his eyes adjusted to the light. He looked at his watch and saw that it was almost the middle of the day; he had been sleeping for at least ten hours. He rolled over onto his back and slowly raised his tired body. He stretched his stiff back and rubbed his eyes. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus on what had happened yesterday. For a few moments, he was blissfully unaware of anything that had happened, and he almost felt peaceful. But as he looked around at his surroundings and wondered, the events of the previous day and night flooded back. He remembered with sickening clarity all that had happened. Aimee, Jamal, gangsters, shootings, suicide, the man in the window, the police. Now Mark remembered how he happened to be lying on this street in the middle of the day, far, far from home. He was completely lost, and had nothing but the clothes on his back and whatever he had in his pockets. He felt his pockets now. He still had his phone, but that was all no identification card, no drivers license, no money, most importantly. His gun he had already lost last night in his haste to get away from that man. He had no idea of his location it looked just as poor as any area of the Bronx, but there were no landmarks he could identify, and the street names were unfamiliar. He couldnt remember how long he had run before collapsing, or the direction he had taken. He could only remember that he had run, with fear in his heart like he had never experienced before. And he had been so tired. And now here he was. He had no money for a taxi, and no one would accept a hitchhiker like him. He considered briefly begging a passerby or a local store owner for food, money, or directions, but he rejected the notion. His sense of pride was still active. Mark stood up slowly and shakily, stretching all his limbs and muscles. Even after his long sleep, he could still feel a huge

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weariness that hung over him like a cloud. His mind still felt foggy, and his legs were like jelly, barely able to hold his weight, let alone walk somewhere. He had no idea where to go next. He had no place to go, no home to go to, nothing material to rely on. He could go back to his apartment, but even if he found his way back, he was sure the police had already searched it, ransacked it, and were keeping it under surveillance. The thought occurred to him that they would have a warrant for his arrest out now. They had his gun, they had his fingerprints, and they had their witness. People might recognize him. Mark looked around him in a panic, but almost no one was out at this time of day, and those who were walking the streets were too preoccupied with their own business to pay close attention to the disheveled young man standing in the alley. Mark walked out of the shaded alley and into the sun. It was warm day for November, the sun shining through the pollution, but Mark could still feel the nip of the cold creeping in. He was only wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and he shivered slightly as a cold wind blew in through the streets. There was a lady walking past, and Mark called out, Excuse me, maam, could you tell me where I am right now?. Mark used his best manners that he had been taught when he young, but his politeness was lost on the lady. She stared at him as if he was crazy, and hurried on without looking back. The same response was repeated three more times as Mark tried to discern his location. Finally he gave up in frustration. He started to walk down the street. He saw the street sign, Dahlia Street, but it gave him no hope; there were hundreds of streets in New York, and Mark barely knew even a few of them. He had never gone out very often when he was staying in his apartment. He shook his head as he realized he was now referring to his apartment in the past tense; it was already gone, with no chance to get it back. He took a turn to the right, then to the left, to the left again, walked diagonally across a park, turned right, and then stopped. His

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little journey still left him with no idea of where he was or where he was going. In dejection, he sat down at a random bench by a basketball court. He heard the bouncing ball behind him, and he wished he could have some real fun in his life. He had never had any friends to play with, or to do anything with. He now felt hot, and his shirt was beginning to get sticky with sweat. He suddenly felt in his pocket his almost-forgotten phone. It was really the only thing he had left, and it seemed now to be the only key to let him escape the prison without walls he was in. But who could he call? Briefly it flashed through his mind that he could call the police and turn himself in, but he rejected the idea immediately. His family was the only thing he could think of now. He could not contact his mother she would not be able to help him, not with the police. Mark knew for certain that Robert could help him, but he knew just as surely Robert would not help him. That left, as usual, Aimee as his only hope. He knew what Aimee would say. He winced in annoyance, but also in guilt, as he thought of what her tone of voice would be and what her words would be. How could he do it again, after running out on her one more time? Mark considered his predicament, but after only a few seconds he realized he had no one else to turn to. He almost writhed as he thought of the shame and embarrassment he would have to endure, but at last he opened his phone, and dialed Aimee. ****************************** Aimee had been up since 6 AM. Her job as an interior designer required that she be up early every morning to prepare for her clients, who started coming at 7:30 AM to inspect her work. It was now lunchtime, and she was just about ready to go back to work. She had already she put in 6 hours, and she was feeling extremely tired. Because she had taken the day off yesterday, she had extra work to do now. Her jaw clenched as she remembered that the day off had been in vain, as Mark had simply walked out on them. Now, she was stuck with an extra workload today, and she

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would probably be forced to work overtime. She had a wonderful apartment in the ritzy district of New York, but she had almost no time to be there. During her lunch hour, she had barely eaten, but instead found a nice, soft padded chair to relax in. She nearly fell asleep before she realized that it was already time to head back to work. She sighed, and pulled herself from the chair slowly and reluctantly. The brief rest she had gotten had only seemed to make her even more tired. Her mind now seemed so foggy. She could not afford to have that, and instead needed a very clear mind when she started work. Her lethargy was interrupted as her phone rang. She glanced down at the screen, and took a second look. Her emotions raced as she saw Mark identified as the caller, but she steadied herself, and answered the phone calmly. Hi, Aimee, Marks voice sounded sheepish, already apologetic. You really do not have the right to call me anymore. This is different now. You always say that. So, how much do you want this time? Aimees tone remained calm, but she was just moments away from snapping, and her voice held barely-concealed biting sarcasm. This IS different. Mark now turned from being embarrassed to pleading and desperate. Ive never...Ive never been in as much trouble like this in my life. Aimee paused for a moment, checking her automatic reply, and instead asked, What are you talking about? She had heard her brother at many different stages and emotions, but she had never heard him quite this scared. Im...in trouble, like real trouble. I just...got the police looking for me. Aimee was now no longer sarcastic as she asked, Mark, what did you do? Did you watch the news at all this morning? Mark asked, now whispering. No, I didnt. Tell me what you did.

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If you saw the news, you probably saw...they have me for murder. What? Aimee was now incredulous and unbelieving. Whatever you see, dont believe it. You know me, Aimee, Im not a killer. Mark again was pleading with her. Slowly Aimee forced out the words, How did you even get mixed up in anything to do with murder? There was my friend, Jamal, he said he would take me somewhere to meet somebody...I got mixed up in a gang thing...it just happened so fast, I swear I had no idea what was going to happen. There was a pause as Aimee considered the magnitude of what Mark was telling her. She sighed and buried her head in her arm, trying to find an answer to Marks problem. Finally she asked, Where are you now? Im somewhere....in the Bronx, I dont know, its all so confusing. I have no money, nothing. You know what, if you didnt commit the murder, why dont you just go to the police and say so? They cant pin a murder on you that you didnt commit. Mark almost shouted, No! When it all happened, I ran like a criminal...I just dont think it will turn out well. I just cant do it. Can you help me? Aimee paused. She had never been on the wrong side of the law, and she was always a model citizen. Her first thought was that whatever Mark had done, she knew that he needed to surrender himself to the police, before the situation worsened. But she knew that things could be bad no matter course she advised him to take. She weighed the options. Im late for work. When Im finished, Ill call you later. Aimee shut the phone quickly before Mark could reply. She collected her bag, and got up to go. As she was leaving the restaurant, she was stopped by two men. As he showed her his badge, the older one said, Miss Conrad, Im Detective Walker from the New York Police Department, this is Agent Moss from the FBI.

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If you please, we would like to have a word with you. Its concerning your younger brother, Mark. Im sorry, I was just on my way back to work. Is there another time that we could do this? Aimee smiled brilliantly, hoping it would work as it had so many other times. Inwardly, she was frustrated and tired, and did not want to face any questions about Mark before she had time to digest the news. Her friendly smile did not work on the police officers. Politely, Detective Walker said, I am sure you can explain to your boss that the delay was police business. Please, take a seat. With reluctance Aimee resumed her seat, and the two officers took up chairs directly across from her. She knew she obviously had done nothing wrong, but as she studied their faces, she could feel them ready to pounce on anything that she might say wrong. The fact that she had just been talking to Mark made her feel like an accomplice to what he had done, or what they said he had done. The feeling pounded in her heart, and her heart beat faster. Detective Walker paused for a moment to let Aimee settle, and then began sharply, asking, When was the last time you talked to your brother, Miss Conrad? Aimee cleared her throat to give herself time to think, as she debated how to answer the question. Deciding swiftly, she deflected the question by asking one of her own: I think I have a right to know why I am being detained from my work because two men from the New York Police Department and the FBI want to ask me questions about my younger brother. I dont want to answer anything before I know why you stopped me, and why youre now asking me about my brother. The two agents exchanged swift glances, before Agent Moss half-smiled, and replied, To put it bluntly, Miss Conrad, your brother is now the main suspect in a murder investigation. An incident took place last night in the Bronx, at approximately 2 AM, and left two people dead. Your brother was witnessed shortly after the murders took place, with the murder weapon in his hands. His fingerprints are all over the weapon, and are the only ones on the

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gun. However, he escaped pursuit by police, and is currently at large. Agent Moss paused and looked hard at Aimee. Although Aimee had just heard the story from Marks side, hearing from the law enforcement how much trouble Mark really was in was horrifying. She stayed silent. After a few seconds of silence, Agent Moss continued, I hope that explains why we need to detain you for a few minutes. Now, if I could ask again, when was the last time you spoke with your brother? He had started out gently, but his voice hardened with the last few words and he looked sharply at Aimee, scrutinizing every twitch in her face that might reveal what she was really thinking. Aimee was now debating her reply, knowing that she could no longer avoid answering their questions. She knew that Mark was in worse than anything she could have imagined. He was now a fugitive, and lying to help him would only drag her down with him. But then Mark had said he really was not a murderer, and whatever pain he had inflicted on his own family, Aimee knew that he was not a murderer. He was not strong enough to even consider murder, let alone look a person in the eye and shoot them. And the detective had just said there were two people murdered. Aimee could not see it at all. But she still did not know what to do, whether to tell the police that he had just contacted her, seeking her help. She hesitated only a moment, but it seemed like forever, as these conflicting thoughts and emotions raced through her mind. Finally, she said, I talked to him yesterday. Now she had crossed the line and into deception, and she would have to survive a whole interview, keeping up her lie. She casually brushed her hair back with her hand, but she could feel her hand shaking. She tried to keep her face as blank as possible. Could you describe for me, briefly, what you did at the time, how you saw him and what you said? Aimee paused once again, as the painful memories from the past 24 hours rushed back.

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He and I went to our mothers house to have lunch. Then, after that, he went back home, and we all went our separate ways. This description skimmed over all the unpleasantness that gone on during and after the lunch, but Aimee decided that it was a truthful enough explanation. Did he, at the time, seem in any way troubled or upset? Now Aimee could feel the sweat suddenly starting on her forehead. For the first time, she did not answer smoothly, and said haltingly, Uh, he was not totally happy, all the time, no. I mean, when he left, he was angry, I guess. And why was that, Miss Conrad? Detective Walker questioned. Now he was hard and quick, feeling that he had found a line of questioning that could reveal the truth. I wanted him to move back in with my Mom, but he didnt want to. So he left. And why did you want him to move back in with his mother?? Aimee burst out, He was addicted to mindless computer games, and he wasnt doing anything right with his life. He leaned on me and my mom for money, never paid anything back, because he never had a job. He was all messed up, and I wanted him to change, to start over with something better, which he couldnt do unless he had some oversight in his life. Obviously, he didnt want that. He left and I havent seen him since then. Both agents were now writing something on their notepads. Then Agent Moss looked up, and asked Aimee, You said that Mark asked for money from both you and your mother. What about your older brother? Did Mark ever ask him for money? Aimee almost laughed, without humor, and replied, Yeah, he asked Robert a lot. And Roberts reply was? At the beginning, when Mark was a teenager, he would do things for him. But when Mark dropped out of college, Robert refused to give him any more money. He never gave him another cent, as far I know. So, Mark and Robert didnt have a good relationship?

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They never spoke to each other, as far as I know. But then Mark never spoke to me or my mom either, unless it was to ask for money. The detectives finished what they were writing, and then stood up together. Detective Walker said, Thank for your time, Miss Conrad. We want to thank you for your help, it will be very valuable in assisting with our investigation. Please call us anytime you need to report anything, especially if Mark tries to contact you. I know what you think, being his sister, but Mark is now a fugitive, and by law anyone harboring or helping someone hiding from the law is also guilty. He smiled after saying this, but Aimee did not smile back. She only nodded, and watched them go with a sinking feeling. She felt as if the two men were smirking at the way her story had been so flimsy. She was now guilty of lying to the police and helping a suspected criminal. She shook her head, thinking how Mark had just pulled her down into his mess, and already she felt like she could never escape. ****************************** Janet was just finishing a long and leisurely lunch, which was eaten by herself, as usual. The meal with Mark and Aimee, even with its stormy ending, had been a joy because of its rareness. The meal she had just finished on this day was excellent, but the sounds echoing through the large corridors only made her feel all alone. The only other person in the house was the butler, walking silently to and from the kitchen. The silence was broken by the ringing of the doorbell. There were precious few callers to the mansion, and Janet looked up in interest. The butler went to open the door, and she could heard a few words being exchanged. Then the butler returned to the dining room, and silently handed her a card. The card was from the New York Police Department, belonging to Detective Walker. Janet raised her eyebrows, trying to think why they would need to come to the house, and why they needed her. She got up from the table, saying to the butler, You can clear the table now, and walked to the door.

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Standing at the entrance in front of the door were Detective Walker and Agent Moss, who introduced themselves. After the greetings, Detective Walker started off the questioning by asking, Mrs. Conrad, have you heard from your son Mark lately? Well, I saw him yesterday. Do you know what has happened to him in the time since that, up to now? No, I havent seen him or talked to him since that time. Why do you ask? Mrs. Conrad, I regret to inform you that your youngest son is now the subject of a murder investigation, a murder which was committed just last night. A witness saw Mark with the gun in his hand, only moments after shots were heard. Two men were found dead, shot with the same gun that Marks fingerprints, and only his prints, on them. Janet covered her mouth in shock and surprise, and said nothing. He is currently on the run, after he escaped police pursuit. Im sorry, but we do have to ask you just a few questions, continued Agent Moss, Could you tell me anything that might have upset Mark or worried him when you saw him two days ago? Well, he was angry when he left, and he left so suddenly, said Janet, and she briefly told them the same story that Aimee had. When she finished, Detective Walker asked, Did you have any contact, any at all, since he left yesterday? No, as I said, he simply left, and I have neither heard nor seen from him, at all, since that point. It seemed as if the interview was about to end, but Agent Moss asked suddenly, Could you tell me about the relationship between Mark and his sister Aimee? They had a very good relationship, as far as I could tell. Aimee always looked out for Mark, and tried to help him. Mark didnt always appreciate it, but he was thankful for her, most of the time. Did Mark ever come to you and ask for money?

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Janet appeared to blush, but she replied, Yes, he did, several times. And did you give it to him? A.a few times. But then Robert said that I shouldnt give any more money to Mark, at all. Robert controls the money, so I had to follow what he said. I imagine that Mark wasnt happy that Robert tried to prevent this from happening? Yes, he was very upset. So the relationship between Mark and Robert was... They hadnt spoken to each other a while, I think. When Robert cut off support for Mark, then they really never communicated. So there was animosity between Mark and Robert, but friendliness, still, between Aimee and Mark? questioned Detective Walker. Yes, you could say that. This seemed to satisfy the two police officers, and Agent Moss finished the interview by saying, I want to thank you for your time, and answering our questions. Well contact you, if we need anything further. They turned to go, but Agent Moss turned back suddenly and added, And Mrs. Conrad? Please, if Mark tries to contact you in any way, we would ask that you do not try to help him. Its in his best interests that he surrender to the police, and then he can face justice and a fair trial. Janet nodded but said nothing further, and the men turned back to their car. Janet stood silently watching them as they drove out of the long driveway. ****************************** Robert was busy at his desk, reviewing plans for a new expansion for Conco. There were always new ways to expand the businessnew avenues, new operations, and new industries to grow into and take over and dominate. There were many industries that the

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company was working in, but Roberts desires were never satiated. Each week, he saw another challenge in front of him, a new goal he could achieve. Robert was not satisfied with just a piece of the market, or even a majority share. He always felt that a business task was not finished until Conco had completely dominated and monopolized the market. So far, he had been successful in dominating, and in many cases monopolizing, certain markets. The government had often looked into anti-trust suits against Conco, but so far Robert had managed to stave them off. But even having complete control in the United States was not enough. Conco had offices in just about every European country, and all the major nations of South America, Asia, Africa. But the Conco brand was still a new presence in foreign countries, and Robert still felt as if he had accomplished so little, and the tasks in front of him were still too gargantuan to achieve in a lifetime. So now Robert was at his desk, charting in his mind and drawing on paper the latest expansion for his company, the one that would push them further on the road to the top of the world. He always felt exhilarated in these planning stages, as he unleashed new ideas and imagined the success it would bring to Conco and himself. These pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a bell, signaling a visitor behind the steel doors. Robert pressed a button, and the door opened silently and smoothly. Cameron entered promptly. Sir, there are two men downstairs, wanting to see you. They identified themselves as being from the New York Police Department and the FBI. Robert looked up sharply, and Cameron imagined he saw a hint of worry. He asked, Whats their business here? They said they wanted to ask about your brother, Mark. Robert stayed silent for a moment, before saying, You can tell them Ill be down shortly. Cameron nodded, and left silently. Robert stood up and put away the papers he had been working on, shaking his head as he did so. Then he left the room in its silence and went to the elevator.

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Agent Moss and Detective Walker were waiting in a small conference room tucked away in a remote corner of the hotel, away from the glitz and glamour of the main lobby. They both stood, looking somewhat uncomfortable, as Robert entered the room. Robert nodded at them, skipped over the introductions, and sat down. After he was seated, the police men followed suit. Well, sir, began Agent Moss, thank you for your time. We just wanted to ask you a few questions about your younger brother Mark. Why? asked Robert shortly. Agent Moss and Detective Walker exchanged glances, before Walker said, He is currently a murder suspect. Last night in the Bronx, around 2 AM, there were shots fired, and a witness saw Mark with the gun right afterwards, standing by the victims. His fingerprints were also found on the gun, the only fingerprints on the gun. Robert received the news with no change of expression on his face, and he displayed no emotion as he asked, Where is he now? He is currently on the run. He escaped police pursuit. Now... began Agent Moss, but was interrupted by Robert. Did anyone actually see him shoot the two men? Did he have any accomplices? As far as we can determine, it was an incidence of gang violence. But the only person the witness saw after the shooting was Mark. As I said, he was standing over the bodies, with the gun in his hand, answered Agent Moss. Now, if I could ask you a few questions? He looked at Robert for a reply, but he stayed silent, so Agent Moss started off by asking, Can I ask you the last time you talked to Mark? It was a day ago, at lunch. And what was the content of the conversation? I told him he was a fool for living like he did. Thats all. And was he upset at this?

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Robert snorted, and said impatiently, Obviously, yes. He acted in his usual immature way, as he always did. In interviews with your sister and mother, they said that you refused to give money to Mark, after a certain point. Is that correct? Yes, I did not give him any more of my money after he dropped out of college. And why did you stop your help for him, after that? He wanted to be a man, he wanted to experience life on his own, without the structure of college, a job. If he wanted to do that, then he could do it. Without my help. And after you stopped, your relationship with him... We didnt talk, until just yesterday. Can you think of anything that would have made Mark upset, particularly very recently? As I just said, I have no idea what he was doing, I never talked to him. He was living in the Bronx; I have no idea what kind of people he was mixed up with. Moss glanced at Walker, and then asked slowly, So you never visited his apartment that he had in the Bronx, never saw the people he was associating with? Robert made a dismissive gesture with his hand and replied, I just told you that, didnt I? And I really have to go now, so I dont think I have any more time to answer your questions. Well, thank you, sir, Detective Walker said quickly, for giving us your time. We appreciate your help. And we would like to remind you that if Mark tries to contact you, in any way, that doing anything other than turning him in to us would be considered harboring a fugitive, and... I know, said Robert, cutting him short. He turned on his heel without saying another word, and walked out the door, leaving the detectives to find their own way out. ******************************

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Agent Moss and Detective Walker had returned to the police station, and they sat in front of Commissioner Cade, retelling their findings from their day of interviewing the Conrad family. Basically, sir, what we learned from our three separate interviews of the family members is this: Robert stopped supporting Mark financially after Mark dropped out of college. This did not make Mark happy, and after that they were estranged. Mark moved out into an apartment in the Bronx, in poorest, most crime-ridden district in New York City. He did not have a job, but he continued to rely on money, some from his sister Aimee, mostly from his mother Janet. He was on good terms with them, but apparently Aimee tried to make him get a job, and he wasnt happy about that either. Yesterday, Aimee tried to get Mark to move back in with Janet. This made Mark walk out completely. He ran back to the Bronx, and that very night, or early morning, he had something to do with shooting those two people. Detective Walker finished his summary and looked up from his notebook to Gregory Cade. Then he added, Those are the facts that were corroborated by all the family members separately. What we dont know is any kind of motive that Mark might have had for his actions last night. Or, where hes hiding out now. We have a warrant out for him, and his face is all over the evening news by now, so hopefully well get some results soon. But the public wont like that a double murderer is on the loose right now. Greg was aware of this, and the political implications of it. He rubbed his eyes, and looked at the ceiling. In your interviews, did you notice if any of his family members seemed likely to try to give him help, without calling the police? he asked. We did warn them, as we always do, replied Agent Moss, that doing so would be illegal and would make them accomplices and liable to prosecution. Of course, anyone of them could do it, although we do have their houses under surveillance. In my mind, I think Robert would never help him. There is no love lost between the two of them. And I suppose thats just as well, since theres no way we can effectively keep Conrad Hotel under watch.

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For Janet, shes not very strong-willed. It is likely that if Mark came to her, that she would help him in some way. Thats why were keeping her mansion under the closest watch. But then again, shes not the type to try to break the law, so maybe she would really turn him in. And Aimee...shes the wild card. Shes the most free-willed of the family, and she doesnt have to listen to what Robert says. So, she could easily go either way on this. Again, were keeping an eye on her and her apartment. Greg asked, What about where Mark lived? Did you search that? Yes, we did. There was nothing there of any value to help us with the investigation. It was a very poor apartment, in a poor district. It was sparsely furnished and disorganized. But of what we did find, theres nothing that gives us a clue as to where hes lying low right now.

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Chapter 6

Aimee sat limply in her car. As she had foreseen, she had worked overtime, and every minute on the job had been hectic. There were so many things she had had to decide. They all were all so difficult, but she was a leader, and she could not hesitate, could not show the real indecision that went into making each decision. That is what those working under her never realized. She tried to keep an unflappable disposition at all times, but in reality she was just like them, only in a leadership position that forced her to make the hard decisions and take the blame for the consequences. They said you could also take the credit for the good decisions, but those seemed to come so rarely. This day had been full of decisions, and momentous ones at that. But Aimee sighed as she remembered that they were not really life-changing for anyone. She was working in a small business, designing homes. Her decisions did not move markets, like Roberts could do. And yet, it was still so difficult. All day, it seemed her only option was to chose the lesser of the evils. Her shoulders slumped further as the day flashed by in her mind. Life and work had completely trodden over Aimee, and now she only wanted to find the blessed numbness of sleep. But still, burning a hole in her pocket, were unanswered phone calls from Mark. He had called, after lunch, a total of six times. She knew she could not leave Mark hanging this night. Even after she had heard the story, both from Marks perspective, and then

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from the polices official view, she still had so many questions to ask. How in the world did Mark get a gun, she wondered. And why? She knew, for sure, that Mark was not a killer. She knew he would never, ever be able to face someone and pull a trigger to shoot them. This conviction was burned in her heart. But then they had actually seen him, with the gun, and the fingerprints, all over the gun. Only his were on the gun, they had said. But there had to be some mistake. She thought back to Marks recent behavior, and how edgy he had been. His constant addiction to computer games had changed him, and not for the better. How did she know for sure what he had been doing in that slum? She had even tried to get him out of there, forcibly and permanently, but he had rejected that. Aimee reclined her car seat all the way back and sighed. Her mind was thoroughly muddled, and she only wanted to sleep. Her eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and she knew once they closed she would be asleep in seconds. Then she would be all alone, the darkness giving her rest, and allowing her to escape the troubles of this world. With a huge amount of self-control, she sat up suddenly, willing herself from the welcome confines of sleep. Aimee told herself she was strong, and she knew she would do her duty, as she had done her whole life. She had always been the good girl, compared to Mark, who was always, always in trouble. She had never needed Robert to come bail her out of trouble, time and time again. She had never needed Robert to pay for every cent of her college. She qualified for a complete academic scholarship, by her own hard work and self-discipline. She had done it all by herself, without any help from Robert or her mother, or anyone else. And yet now, she no longer wanted to be independent; she only wanted to give up her control and let someone else make the decisions. She could not fix this situation on her own; she was dealing with the police and the government, and she was not strong enough. Most of all, she just wanted to let Mark be. Why was he worth the trouble? He had rejected her help, broken her heart, and broken his own mothers heart so many times. The only reason he

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had not broken Roberts heart was because nothing broke Roberts heart. He was too cold and calculating to allow himself to be pulled in emotionally. In fact, he was just the person who could assist Aimee in pulling Mark out of the newest mess he had gotten into. But she knew he would never consent to help Mark Robert was finished with Mark. And how much Aimee wanted to be finished with Mark. She wanted to wash her hands completely of him, and tear the weight from her body and soul. She was sacrificing her personal life, her career to help Mark. She sank back on the seat, starting to succumb to her emotions, and let the tiredness sweep over her in a wave. It felt so good. The phone rang, for the seventh time. Aimee tried to keep her eyes closed and ignore the vibration, but the spell was broken. She set her jaw, pulled up her seat, and opened the phone to face the responsibilities once again, as she always did. Hello? What took you so long to answer the phone, Aimee? The aggrieved voice of Mark began at once, without an introduction or hello. Ive been calling you and calling you for so long, the whole day, and you never answered. Aimee started angry retort, but she checked her emotion, and said simply, I was busy, and I was working. I had a full days work, and I just got off from it. And Im tired, too. In voice of self-pity, Mark replied, I had a full day of nothing. All I could do was skulk around corners and hope that no one recognized me as an escaped fugitive. And now its night time and I dont think I can bear to spend another night out here, alone. Where are you right now? Did you finally figure out where you are? Yeah, I finally got to see a landmark or something, and I know where I am. Mark proceeded to give her a street address. After he had finished, Aimee answered, OK, just hold on. Ill be there as soon as I can get there, OK? Just wait, and Ill come and get you.

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She snapped the phone shut with a sigh, and started her engine. She still felt so drowsy, but she shook the last vestige of sleepiness out of her head and pulled out the parking lot, heading out to rescue Mark once again. On the other end, Mark closed the phone, and leaned back against the hard bench he had been sitting on. When he had said to Aimee that he had spent his day hiding in broad daylight and trying to avoid the stares of those who might have identified him from the news, he was not exaggerating. He felt as if everyone who even gave him a second look was someone who was fixing his face in their mind, ready to give an accurate description to the nearest police officer. Mark had spent most of the day in back alleys -- but there were other dangerous people out there, real criminals, who used those same back alleys to do their dangerous work. There were drug dealers, murderers, rapists, and others who frequented the back streets, and Mark did not dare to spend much time there. So he was driven out in the open, out in the bright sunlight where every passerby could clearly see his twisted, worried face. He was half-driven mad by the hunger and the fear. He had no money, so he had nothing to eat and nothing to drink. He felt ready to die. Already, he was wallowing in self-pity. He had tried to call Aimee so many times, and she had never answered. He felt like he was on a desert island now, completely cut off from the world, with nothing to survive on. It was night time, and the hot afternoon had turned into a cool evening. Mark had only a T-shirt on, and he was beginning to feel the cold. He shivered because of it, wishing that he had brought something more substantial the night before. Already, that fateful night seemed an age ago, and Jamal seemed like a distant memory almost. But Mark could never forget the sight of him turning the gun on himself and pulling the trigger. And then seeing the look in the old mans eyes when he saw Mark with the gun, and saw the dead bodies around him. It was the look that would send Mark to prison. But Mark would never let himself be caught that easily. He was not a fighter by nature, but now his survival instincts had kicked

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in. He would not go down without a fight. He would leave the country, take a freighter to a far country, or smuggle onto a plane, rather than face the trial that he would have here. He looked at the time, wondering when Aimee would finally arrive. During those long hours during the day, when the sun was shining, and he was hungry and thirsty, he had almost considered calling Robert. He had ruled out his mother immediately, because he knew that she would never be able to help him in the way he needed. But Robert, he was the one who knew his way around, surely. He could use his own connections, and give Mark the help he needed. But Mark knew it would never happenit was a fools dream, to think that Robert would help Mark. Not after everything that Mark had done to him. Yet Aimee was here, as she always had been. Despite all the things that Mark had done, the hurtful words he had exchanged with her when she had tried to help him and he had rejected her, she was still here. She was coming for him, to rescue him, again. And even now, her car was pulling up beside him. Mark thought that he had never been more glad to see a Mercedes Benz in his life than at that moment. As Aimee looked out, she was not smiling that brilliant smile, but Mark knew that she would help him. He was content in his trust of her. Aimee did not stop the engine, and only said shortly, Get in. Mark climbed into the passenger seat, and Aimee immediately started the car again. For a few minutes, peace and silence reigned within the car. Then Mark broke the silence. Where are we going? Were going to my apartment. And I dont want you to be in the front seat when we get there. Why? Whats the matter? Dont you know? The police are watching my apartment, and your house, and if try to go in there, then theyll arrest you, and me, and well both be in more trouble than you can imagine. So

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please, get out of the car, and make yourself as small as possible in the back seat. Aimee pulled the car over on the curb, and Mark dutifully got out and scrunched himself in the back, pulling himself into a ball on the floor of the car. It was a very well-kept floor, free of crumbs and smelling like it had just been washed. Mark soon began to develop cramps as the journey continued, but he said nothing. After thirty minutes, an eternity to Mark, they finally reached the block of apartments where Aimee lived. From his prone position, Mark could see the buildings reaching into the night sky. From the outside, they appeared ritzy and luxurious, although Mark did not know if this was true on the inside. This was the first time he had seen the buildings; Aimee had never asked him to visit her. Mark saw the front lobby, which looked like a smaller version of the lobby of Roberts hotel, but Aimee did not stop in front of it. After a few more minutes of driving, they finally pulled into a parking space on the far side of the parking complex, away from the lights. Aimee got out and opened the back door. Hurry up, she said, her voice only slightly above a whisper. Mark painfully uncurled himself and climbed out slowly. Aimee grabbed him by the arm and broke into a half-jog, half-run as they crossed the parking lot. There was a side door that led into the building, and Aimee quickly swiped a card that opened it, while looking hurriedly and worriedly across the lot, looking for any agents sitting in their cars. They passed through a narrow hall, and through glass doors that slid open silently and automatically. They turned once and then walked through plain green doors that revealed a room distinctly different from the splendor of the main lobby. The walls were tiled with a dull gray color, and it contained only a trash bin and doors for the freight elevator. They took this to the 42nd floor, and then passed out of the fire escape, and back into the wealth and splendor, the gold-plated handrails and shiny floor-length mirror. Their short five minute walk was taken in silence.

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Aimee thought she could hear her heart pounding as they walked down the hall to her apartment door. She felt as though an agent could jump out of the shadows and arrest her at any moment. She was nervous, and jumped at the slightest sound. She looked over at Mark, and was amazed that he seemed to be normal, almost calm. They finally reached her door, and with trembling hands, she unlocked the door and opened it. Mark entered first, and Aimee followed behind, making sure that both locks and the dead bolt were secured. Mark wandered aimlessly into the sitting room, which was brightly lit and filled with sleek, modern-looking furniture. Aimee collapsed on the couch, the stress of the day finally overwhelming her. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, and closed her eyes. She was awakened by Marks voice rudely cutting in on her. What do we do now? Aimee kept her eyes closed. Most of all, after all the tension and stress they had just been through, she just wanted to close her eyes and let sleep blissfully envelope her. She did not want to deal with Marks problems anymore; she was tired and not in the mood for serious decision-making. Oblivious to her pain and fatigue, Mark asked loudly, Aimee, answer me. Seriously, what am I supposed to do? Aimee slowly opened her eyes, reluctantly focusing her eyes on her most immediate problem. Sleepily and groggily, she told him, I dont know. And Im tired, and I want to sleep. You can find something to do. After that message, she turned over, and finally let herself go. She allowed the release of sleep to come to her and block out all the worries and pain that awaited her in the real world. Within two minutes she was lost to the world. Mark watched in dismay as his sister drifted in oblivion. He considered trying to rouse her once more, but he decided that she would need it, if she was going to help him. He envied her, getting to sleep like that. He had been on the run all day, and he was tired. And he did not know what to do. Was he supposed to guard the fort?

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What if someone knocked and wanted to see her? He sighed heavily, and lay back against the couch. The couch he was now reclining in was soft and had all the luxuries that a high-end couch would have. Naturally, Aimee had could afford it easily, with a nice job that paid her a six-figure contract. Meanwhile, Mark stayed out in the slums, barely scraping by. Mark became bitter at these thoughts, and he regarded the now-asleep form of his older sister with anger and distaste. He could not believe how unfair life was. He let his train of thought run down this track for a while, but eventually he became tired of that as well. He became tired of thinking in general; the day had been so tiring and exhausting. But as he thought about it, a chill ran through his mind. There would be more days like this. Just to get a roof over his head and something to lie on, Aimee had had to sneak him in through the side door and the back elevator. And this would continue, this life of sneaking around, barely getting by, always living in fear of when the police would find him. Mark could not bear this thought, and he shook his head angrily. Finally, he succumbed to the exhaustion overtaking him, and fell asleep beside his sister. ****************************** Robert sat at his desk, considering his options. For a fact, he knew that the whole incident that had happened the previous night was caused by his own men. They had gone to talk with the store owner Marcel Hine , they had stumbled across the rival gang members, and it had all blown up in their faces. Somehow or other, Mark had been mixed up in this, and he had gotten nailed with the murder weapon. There was a witness, and it all looked like an open-and-shut case. These were the facts that Robert knew. As he had done so many times in sensitive business transactions before, he now sat back with the facts that he knew, and mulled them over and over, trying to determine exactly what could be done with what he knew.

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He knew that Mark was on the run somewhere. He knew that Mark could not survive out there by himself. He could picture him now, huddled somewhere in a dark corner, feeling sorry for himself, and not knowing what in the world to do. Robert knew Mark was too cowardly to voluntarily turn himself into the police. Robert did not know whether Mark was really guilty, but he was relatively sure he had never pulled the trigger and shot at anyone. Mark was much, much too cowardly for that. However, if he was stupid enough to get himself mixed up with Antonios gang, and then get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, then, in Roberts mind, he deserved whatever punishment the law gave him. However, Robert was still debating whether it would be worthwhile to try to save Mark. He knew that Mark was a loser; Aimee had worked on him, like a project, for years, and never made any progress. He was simply a loser in life; there was no denying that fact. But what did Mark know? This was a question that perplexed Robert. Besides Cameron, no one not the police, not the company board members knew of Roberts power in the underworld. But then there was that particularly troublesome aspect, the family relationships. Robert reviewed in his mind what he might have revealed to his family members, or what they might have discovered for themselves. As for his mother, he was almost sure she knew nothing. Even if she saw something worthwhile, something that might have helped in the police investigation, she would not have been smart enough to pick up on it. Robert dismissed her from his mind. He moved to Aimee. Here, Robert paused, and his brow furrowed as he pondered the New York City skyline. Aimee was the one who was smart; there was no denying that. Robert knew that she was brilliant, and more than that, she was independent. When he had realized that fact early in her teenage years, he had tried to establish a closer relationship with her. He had wanted to help her, to give her advantages, so that when she was older and able to understand the things she saw around her, she would not balk at anything

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questionable in Roberts dealings. He had hoped that she would look on him as a loving older brother whom she could never betray. But it had not turned out the way Robert wanted it to; Aimee was a free spirit, and she would not accept his help. She was truly brilliant; she had been an academic genius, and had gotten into Dartmouth on a full academic scholarship. She had refused any money, help, or influence on Roberts part, and had paved her own way with her own will and effort. Robert knew that if the police came knocking on Aimees door, asking about Robert, she would not hesitate. Yes, there was no denying that she must know at least something. She was sitting on information potentially damaging to his corporation and worst of all to him, and Robert hated that. He tried to keep everything about Conco as secret as possible, but Aimee had her ways. And this worried Robert. But he took his mind off her for a moment and returned to what had started this meditationMark. He knew that Mark was stupid, worthless, and a loser. He did have some ability, a spark of motivation, but he never chose to use it. Still, in the days when Mark and Robert had still been talking, Mark had made comments that left Robert wondering. But how much did that matter now? That was the question that lay before Robert? Was Mark really worth his time, effort, and moneyagain? This was not the first time Robert had been called on the extricate Mark from his troubles. Eventually, he had refused. And now, Robert stood up. He had made up his mind. Truly, Mark was not worth the trouble. Robert pressed the bell beside his desk decisively, and said into the speaker beside it, Bring in Cameron. Cameron entered and stood waiting as Robert sat in the shadows. Cameron always waited there, having learned it was best not to say a word before Robert spoke. Robert commanded, Bring up my car, get it ready. With bodyguards Cameron left with promptness to prepare this for his boss. Robert also prepared to leave, but before he could do so his progress

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was arrested by the ringing of his phone. His jaw clenched angrily, but for a minute he seemed to want to leave it ringing and not answer. However, eventually his jaw unclenched and he eventually opened the phone and answered. This is Aimee. Robert, I need...I want to tell you something. Mark is down here with me. Aimee said this guardedly, with her voice low and small. She was now awake and moving around, her mind cleared after the short nap she had gotten, but Mark was still sprawled on the couch, oblivious to the world. I guessed this is what would happen, Aimee. You know you are now breaking the law? asked Robert, and his voice began to rise as he continued, What are you thinking? You are endangering your own well-being by doing this for him. You know you cant win. The federal government will get you, no matter what you or Mark think. Thats why Im calling you. Mark hasnt thought about this a lot yet, but hes going to be on trial for murder, and if the police were right, then theres no way hell be able to escape that. Thats why Im calling. I want your help to... Aimee, if this is about me helping Mark again, giving him money to escape the country or some bone-headed plan like that, there is no way. I am done with Mark, as I said before. He can only cause trouble, I said then, and now see what hes doing to his own family, pulling them into his own lawlessness. I will do nothing to help him. OK, you know what, said Aimee, her own voice rising, You cannot abandon your own younger brother like that, no matter what he has done to anyone. Hes your family, alright? And anyway, Im not asking you to smuggle him out of the country, although Im sure you can do that perfectly easily, if you wanted to. She paused, and Robert began to feel uncomfortable, feeling that maybe she would lead the conversation in a direction he really did not want. However, she continued, I want you to talk to Mark, to help him surrender to the police.

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Thats not going to work. Roberts voice was flat, emotionless, and final. It doesnt matter, you have to try. He cannot keep on going like he is, and if you can persuade him to surrender to the police, then it will go a lot better for him. Im sorry, but what makes you think hes going to listen to me? He hates me. Why dont you ask him yourself? He can actually stand you, and hell probably listen to you. Better yet, why not ask mother? She could persuade him as well. Im the last person you want for the job. You have influence. You can use your speaking ability. I saw you at the mayors rally, the company press conference...you can do it for the public, for the reporters, then you can certainly convince your own brother, for something that is very important for his life. I really dont believe this is worth my time. Please dont bother me with this again. Robert was about to hang up, but he was arrested again as he heard the anger in his sisters voice. You cannot do this. You cannot give up on your brother like this. You have to do this, for me. Robert paused. This was a tone of voice he never really heard her use before. After a long pause, he finally said, Fine. Ill come over. Aimee hung up the phone with a sigh of relief. She looked back at the sleeping form of Mark at the couch. He seemed harmless, but in reality he was the source of all the familys troubles. Aimee shook her head suddenly as the thought entered her mind. No, she thought, she could not think those kinds of things. The Conrad family had many problems before Mark ever came along. Many, many problems not even related to him. She could not blame him like that. On the other hand, she could not think that what he was doing was not being totally destructive to the family, fracturing it even more than it had been already. And she knew that the right thing for her to do would be to make him hand himself in to the

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police. But she could not make herself do it, for some reason. She was harboring an illegal fugitive, despite knowing the consequences. Now she was really wishing that Robert would come soon. She could not make all the decisions for the family now. She was so tired, and she wanted to go to bed. But she had to wait for Robert. So, as Mark slept away, innocently and oblivious of the world around him, Aimee sat up, trying to avoid sleep, and waiting for Robert to come and rescue them all.

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Chapter 7

Robert sat in his chauffeur-driven car, on the way to Aimees apartment. His limousine was not a surprising sight on the streets where Aimee lived. There were many well-to-do residents in her neighborhood, and she could almost include herself in that number. Robert sat in the back, looking at the luxury apartments fly by. He was deciding what he had to say to Mark. What could he say to really convince Mark to turn himself over to the police? He knew that brute force would not work; Mark would most certainly reject that. Any show of authority Mark would not respond to; certainly not from Robert anyway. Robert puzzled over this, as he would do with important business decisions. He approached it logically and reasonably. An absolute answer, one that would be right in every situation was sure to become apparent at some point, if he applied his brain hard enough. His thinking process was pure genius, according to many business writers. It had engineered many business solutions that had long-lasting economic reverberations for his company, their competitors, the New York State consumers, and customers all around the country and the world. Mark was also known for the same in the underground world, for navigating the treacherous waters with great skill and wisdom. And now, he applied this same knowledge and experience to this family problem. By the time he had arrived at the front gates of her building, he had found the solution to his problem.

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He walked in, well aware that the police who were staking out the building would see and recognize him. But he did not care; they could not touch him. Inside, safe from the furious winds of the now raging winter of New York City, the lobby seemed magnificent, but Robert found it only a cheap copy of the real splendor in the lobby of his own hotel. That was a magnificent jewel and bedecked in gold and splendor, as travel show hosts and critics described it. They were united in their praise for it. The lobby Robert was now in would have been wonderful for the majority of the population of New York City, but for Robert it was only inferior and mediocre. He barely gave his surroundings a second glance as he headed towards the elevators. Although this was a high-end district, Robert was much more high-end than the people here; one man called out his name, and Robert gave him a fleeting glance over his shoulder, but then quickly dived into an unoccupied elevator and closed the doors before anyone could occupy the space along with him. He stood in silence, watching the skyline of the city through the glass window of the elevator. He had no fear of heights, and his heart did not even beat faster as the elevator went up and up, before finally stopping at the 42nd floor. The bell rang, the light went off, and the doors opened. Robert strode purposefully to Apartment D and rang the doorbell. He accompanied this with a decisive knock. Aimee had nearly been asleep on a chair in the kitchen, but the ring and the loud knocking woke her suddenly and painfully. She looked over at Mark, but his sleeping form showed no signs of stirring. She slowly dragged herself out of the chair, and went to open the door. She shook the sleep from her head, and unlocked the door. Robert stood, his hand paused to knock yet again. The hand dropped quickly, and there was a short, awkward silence. For a moment, Robert considered holding out his hand to shake, and Aimee considered giving a hug. Both of them quickly rejected their respective ideas.

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Aimee broke the awkward silence by saying stiffly and softly, Please come in. She turned from the doorway, and Robert followed her. She stopped in the kitchen, which was directly opposite the living room, where Mark still slept, undisturbed. Robert devoted a few seconds to running an inquisitive eye over her apartment. He knew where she lived, but he had never been there in person. The apartment was very well furnished, and tastefully as well. It was upper-class, but not over the top or ritzy. Robert found himself grudgingly approving of it. He did mention this fact to Aimee, but asked instead, What are you planning to do? Aimee replied in a half-whisper, You stay out of sight when Mark wakes up. I break the news, gently, that youre here. Then we can see how he reacts. From there, you can work whatever magic you have, and hopefully... She let this sentence hang in the air. Didnt you already smile at him, and melt him into a puddle? For the first time in a long time, Robert allowed himself a small, tiny smile. In spite of the awkward and strained situation, Aimee smiled, and then laughed. Together, they shared a small moment of humor. Mark stirred in the other room, and the small moment was broken. Aimee looked at Robert, who quickly moved into the adjoining room, away from the view of Mark. Aimee padded softly over to Mark, who was beginning to move. Mark winced as his eyes adjusted to the light, and then he stretched, long and hard. Aimee knelt over him, and said gently, Roberts here. I asked him to come. Hes here to help. Marks eyes widened. Immediately he was wide awake. Usually it took him half an hour to even clear his head after getting out bed, but hearing the words Roberts here electrified him into consciousness. He was immediately clear and forceful. No! You have got to be kidding. Because if you arent, then things are seriously not going to be good. Are you crazy, having him here? There is no way hes going to help me, and Im not going to accept it.

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Robert chose this tense moment to step out of the shadows and reveal himself to Mark and Aimee. Hello, Mark, he said softly. He was now employing his best speaking voice. Just as Aimee could flash her wonderful smile, so could Robert summon his most persuasive voice, and many, many men had been taking into his convincing, soft, and wonderful voice. Robert used it with full force on Mark. Usually, when he spoke to his younger brother, he was harsh and impatient, after so many years of mistakes and disobedience and rebellion. However, now he had a goal, and he knew that harsh authority would not be the way to go. Its good to see you, again, Mark. He smiled, but to Mark, he still looked repulsive. Robert extended his hand, but Mark only looked at it, and then back at Robert. He had expected, Robert to start blasting away at him immediately, but he was instead taking a different tack entirely. Robert smoothly retracted his hand, and did not seem to notice the awkward moment. He continued confidently, I hear that you have been in trouble. And you know what, Mark? As he spoke, Robert bent over, putting his own face inches from Marks face. Mark was still half-reclining on the couch, so Robert seemed to tower over him. The light was shining brightly above his head, and directly into Marks eyes. Mark winced and was unable to looked into his brothers eyes. Robert continued, Im here to help. No matter whats happened in the past, this is what family is for. I can help you, alright? The police, FBI, it doesnt matter. I can help you get past all of them. You do understand that if they catch you, youre a dead man, or at best in prison for life? Robert looked at Mark with raised eyebrows. He had been talking as if he was addressing a class of kindergarteners, and he looked at Mark to make sure that he was understanding what he was really saying. Mark said nothing, but his face had changed from repulsion to blankness. He showed no signs of real interest, but Robert thought that at least it was a start. You know what you need to do? With an airtight case like they have against you, you only have one choiceget out. Get out of

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the country, go someplace where they cant find you, and even if they do know where you are, they cant touch anyway. And I can help you. As Robert expanded on his plan, Aimee started to stir at his elbow. She had expected to Robert to try to convince him to turn himself over to the police, but instead he was proposing that Mark plunge even deeper on the wrong side of the law. She was about to interrupt, which no one ever did when Robert was talking, but Robert did not pause and continued by questioning Mark, But first, I need to know, Mark, because I cant help you at all, without knowing...What really happened last night? This was a question that Aimee had not asked Mark directly, because at the time he had not seemed in the mood or in the right frame of mind to answer it. And he had dodged the details of the story, giving only imprecise answers to her. Now, Robert was insistent, wanting to get to the true heart of the issue, just as he did for every business case that he had been involved in. Mark slowly sat up and leaned forward, looking at the blank wall opposite him. For a minute, he ignored his siblings and seemed to be lost in his own world. Robert was about to ask again, but suddenly Mark spoke, and started pouring out his own story, the real story. I had nothing to do last night, once I got back after I ran from....Yeah, and then Jamal came, and said I could meet some people, and I just decided to go with him, since he was my friend. And we went to this house, and he said that if I was going to be friends with people, then I needed to do something for the boss. That was Antonio. And then we went on this mission, I had no idea what they were doing. And then Jamal told me that we were going to put somebody in line. But then once we got there, there was another gang, and they started firing, and I dived into an alley. Then they all ran out, but Jamal came back, and I went to see him. He told me to shoot the guy who saw it all, but I didnt want to. So Jamal shot him...and then he shot himself. I picked up the gun, and right after that somebody was in the window, and he saw me with my gun. Then I ran out, and Ive been on the run ever since.

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Mark began his explanation with a normal tone of voice, but then he started to speak faster and faster, and at the end his voice was almost cracking, and he seemed on the verge of tears. For Mark, that did not happen very often, even in the miserable circumstances he had been in recently Robert watched and listened to the display with his arms crossed and his face expressionless, and Aimee said nothing, although her face betrayed some of the emotions that working in her heart. Then Mark turned back to them, and looked first at Aimee, and then stood up and looked Robert in the eye and said, I just told you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but. And when I say that same exact story in court, they wont believe me. So tell me, Robert, if youre willing to help me, show me what you have. Even if youve never helped me before, show me what you can do to help me. Robert did not cross his arms or display any emotion on his face, but internally he was surprised that Mark could show such great emotion; his decisiveness was out of character. Without batting an eye, Robert held Marks gaze for a few seconds. Eventually, the fire died in Mark, and he turned away, looking down at the floor. The passion that had seemingly consumed him in the outburst was gone; he was the same apathetic person that his family had known for so long. But then Aimee broke the tension by going to Mark, standing a little on her toes, and giving him a hug. Mark was limp for a few seconds, then slowly embraced her as well. Neither one said anything, as they held the embrace for several seconds, and Robert stood slightly apart, watching them without a word. Eventually, Mark let go, and Aimee dropped down to her normal level. The emotional scene now finished, both Mark and Aimee looked to Robert. In a very different tone of voice, one that was now apathetic, nor passionate, but now pleading, Mark asked, What can you do to help me? I need it this time, Robert, I do really need it. Robert looked at him carefully and then nodded his head. Finally, he spoke. Tomorrow morning, at 10. Come to the lobby of

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my hotel. No ifs or buts. Someone will be there for you. Theyll take you to a conference room, and we can talk. Ill have it all arranged. Have a good night. As he said this, he was walking out the door, and the last sentence he said over his shoulder as he paused at the door. He looked at Aimee and nodded confidently, smiled, and then walked out. ****************************** Mark. Mark, wake up. For the second time in 24 hours, the persistent voice of Aimee woke Mark up. Once again, Mark resisted the intrusion into his long sleep, but Aimee did not give up, and soon Mark had to roll out of bed. As he did so, and as his mind cleared, he remembered where he was, the events of the past few days, and why it was he was sleeping on a cot in the living room of his sisters apartment. He also remembered that this was the morning when he would be going to see Robert. A cold chill enveloped him as he thought about what this day would mean to him. He hoped that it would, in a way, signal the end of the enmity and fighting between himself and Robert. However, Mark did not meditate on this thought for very long, and instead dwelt on the hope that today would be the first day of his new life. He would escape the law, his family, those terrible confines that had always been holding him back, and he could forge ahead and create his own destiny. As he thought back on his own childhood, he could see that really, his problem was that he had always been held back. As he was growing up, Robert was already a successful businessman, and then as Mark was a teenager, Robert began to gain notice for his brilliant business moves. As the younger brother of Robert, Mark always had this shadow hanging over him, whatever he did. It was monstrously unfair, the pressure he had had to face when he was a young adult.

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Even Aimee, who was so kind of to him, most of the time, had furthered this pressure. His mother would point to Aimee, and say that she was who he should follow. She was always so successful, a perfect copy of Robert. As Mark looked over at Aimee while he prepared himself in the morning, he felt resentment building again. It was so unfair, how his life had been pressured like this. The success started by his older brother should have been a steppingstone for Mark, but it had turned out to be instead a terrible burden. But it would all be different for him, now that he would have a new place to go to, a new start. He could make a new life where no one would recognize his name, or even care that Robert was his brother. And Mark could be successful, all by himself. All the credit would be for him, not for anyone else. Mark smiled. Aimees thoughts ran down a different course; she mostly thought about how this would be the turning point for the family relations. Robert would help Mark, at long last, and after so long the family be united. But then Mark would go away. Did it really have to be, she thought with sadness, that only when Mark was gone the family would be united? She sighed resignedly, knowing that it was really true. Mark was truly the dividing force in this family; Robert was not the problem, as much as she wanted to think so. Despite what Mark wanted her to believe, it was Mark himself who was the divisive person. Maybe it would all be for the best. She didnt know what she would think, having to say goodbye to Mark. She had been there for him, all through his childhood, teenage years, and in college. Even after everyone had given up on him, she had been there for him, taking him through it, and bearing the real brunt of his mistakes. She had taken many hits to her reputation because she had chosen to defend Mark. This was something that Mark would never realize. Especially now, Mark did not seem to realize that he was really endangering her, by almost forcing her to take him in and harbor him from the law, by playing on her own guilt. Aimee felt almost ashamed that she had allowed herself to be manipulated in such a way. Mark was no fool; he was smart, when he was motivated to be so, and he could use others emotions when he wanted to. And

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now, he had put his sister, his best friend in life, at risk. Aimee got a terrible feeling in her stomach as she imagined what would happen if the police found out about her, hiding and helping a known fugitive. That was sure grounds for an indictment, and a guilty verdict read out at the end of a court trial. Aimee did not shudder, but she quickened her preparations, and told Mark to do the same. As painful as a goodbye might be, it would be best to get Mark out of the apartment as soon as possible. She would drop him off at hotel, say goodbye, and then drive to work. No one would know, especially not the police, no one would be the wiser, the law included, and she would be free to resume her normal life. Aimee skipped over a few of her normal preparations, and said brusquely to Mark, Lets go. I cant be late to work today. Mark said under his breath, Im hurrying, Im hurrying. Just give me a second. He finally finished his preparations, in a time that seemed to take forever, in Aimees mind, and then walked towards the door. He was complete contrast to Aimee, who was sharply dressed, as usual. Mark was still wearing the clothes he had been wearing 48 hours ago. His hair was a mess, and his clothes completely wrinkled. Aimee carried a small purse for her work, but Mark carried nothing. He needed nothing, on what would be his new journey, into a new life. Aimee closed and locked the door, and they took the elevator down. Aimee remembered that police would probably still be staking her apartment complex out, so she again led Mark through a series of passages, before emerging in a hidden-from-view side door. They half-ran, half-jogged to her car, and jumped in. Once again, Mark was wedged in the back, on the floor. This time, however, he was confident, and feeling secure, even looking forward to what would happen. Today would be the start of his new life. ******************************

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Robert prepared for yet another business day in the same way as he always did. He always woke up at exactly the same time, and prepared himself by following the exact same routine that he had completed for the past twenty years or more. When he was perfectly ready, with a three-piece suit that did not have a single wrinkle in t, he picked up his phone, and dialed a number. A few days ago, he never would have dreamed of dialing this number, but now he did. He almost smiled as he waited for an answer. A pleasant voice answered promptly, Good morning, this is Gregory Cade speaking. Robert started off the conversation by saying, Good morning, Cade. I hope that this is not too early for you. Greg suppressed his complete surprise at hearing Roberts voice, and replied politely, as always, Good morning, Mr. Conrad. It is not too early at all. Its good to hear your voice. Is there any reason for this pleasure of your call? Robert did not waste time on pleasantries, but instead went straight to the point, also as usual. I have information as to the whereabouts of Mark Conrad. I believe you want my younger brother for suspicion of a recently committed double murder. I can hand him over to you in, Robert glanced at his watch and continued, about thirty minutes. Your men have that much time to respond, or the opportunity is lost forever. There was a long silence before Greg, almost stammering, asked, How did you get him? I dont have him, I merely know where he is. He contacted me last night. I agreed to help him, knowing full well that the only proper thing he could do was turn himself over the police. So now, I give you the chance to bring him to justice. You would do well to take it. Greg was at first surprised that Robert had been able to see Mark, since his men had closely monitored Conrad Hotel, and Roberts movements. However, he was then not surprised at all. Robert was not known as the king of the underworld for nothing. He had his ways and means of deception. Greg could only hope

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fervently that this was not a ploy to distract the police, for some devious unknown reason of Roberts. As the initial surprise wore off, he asked in a slow and careful tone of voice, Where can we find him? Where is the meeting going to be? It will be in my own hotel, replied Robert. Have your men come to the lobby at 10 AM. Things will develop from there. At the end, youll have the man you want. Dont miss it. The phone was hung up on Roberts end, and Greg was left with a buzzing line, and a mind full of bewilderment, surprise, and excitement. He would indeed finally have his man. ****************************** Aimee pulled into the parking lot of the Conrad Hotel. Her car was very nice by most standards, but compared to the RollsRoyces and limousines that were spread throughout the parking lot, it seemed like a beaten-up station wagon. As Mark stepped out, he felt distinctly shabby, in comparison to the luxurious environment surrounding him. When Aimee stepped out, however, it seemed to Mark that she fit in perfectly with the surroundings, despite her seemingly shabby car. She did not seem uncomfortable at all, and looked at Mark questioningly as he stood gazing around him, star-struck. They walked in the front doors of the hotel. The door men held open the doors for Aimee willingly, but gave skeptical looks to Mark. Mark tried to ignore the looks, but his discomfort became even sharper as he stepped into the lobby and absorbed the atmosphere inside it. It was hustling and bustling, like most of New York City, but this busyness was different from the pedestrian life of New York City. This hustle and bustle was refined and elegant. No one moved without purpose, and everyone walked with grace and confidence. There were signs of wealth and luxury, in the extreme, all around them. The chandelier hanging far above their heads, the gold seemingly on every flat surface in the lobbyit was all there. Mark

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felt exceedingly out of place in the lobby. He saw other people dressed similarly as he wasshabby, dirty, and would have ordinarily looked very poor. But even when they were dressed poorly, they still looked rich. Mark dressed poor, and looked poor. Meanwhile, Aimee walked on oblivious to his thoughts. She was only thinking that she had to be at work in only a few minutes, and she could not afford to waste any time here. Any goodbyes would have to be short. They had only taken a few steps into the lobby before they were intercepted and stopped discreetly by one of the hotel staff. He said politely, Mr. and Ms. Conrad? Please, I believe that I can take you to where you want to go. Aimee and Mark followed in silence as they cut across the lobby, went through a side door, and then walked down a hallway which was as expansively and luxuriously furbished as the lobby. There were several more turns to the right and to the left, and Mark eventually lost track of where they were going. However, the staff member who was guiding them showed no signs of being lost in the labyrinth of corridors that made up the Conrad Hotel. The hotel was not just a place for those who wanted a room to sleep in. With 88 floors, there were many other things that the building was used for. All of Concos board meetings and business announcements were held in one of its many conference rooms. It was one of these rooms that the staff member led Mark and Aimee into. He politely bowed out, and left them alone. Mark took a seat, trying to make himself comfortable after the almost humiliating experience in the lobby, but Aimee remained standing. She looked at her shiny new Rolex, gleaming with gold and silver and wondered how much time she would have left to stay. After a minute, she said finally, OK, I have to get to work. Another minute, and Ill be late. I cant have that. Before Mark could look up and reply, she was leaving. Before she closed the door, she looked back at Mark. She said nothing, but only looked at him, with an expression on her face that was impossible for Mark to interpret. Then the door closed, and Mark was left alone.

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Now he felt uncomfortable again, without the guiding presence of Aimee. She had been the bridge between this luxury world in the hotel, and the real world that he lived inat least, he considered his world to be the real one, and this one merely a fantasy created by fantastic money. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them, all while staring at the blank wall. He wondered, now angrily, when Robert would be coming. What right did he have to keep him waiting here? This was an important day, and they should get down to business as soon as possible. When Robert finally walked in, it seemed like an eternity had passed. Robert said nothing, and gave no preliminary greetings. Mark said nothing either, so there was silence as Robert pulled up a chair across the table from Mark. He had in his hands a folder and several papers. The first words Robert uttered were, All right, I have a plan for you. You can take a plane out of New York tonight. It will land in Kuala Lumpur 24 hours from now. He paused and glanced up briefly at Mark and said caustically, Kuala Lumpur is in Malaysia. Now, the plane is private, a small plane, not a jet airplane. Well also give you some papers, passports, ID, and everything else. Then you can start a new life. You also will get some money, enough to keep you until you find a new job. I have no idea what you want to do, but this is the new start that you wanted, am I correct? Mark stared at Robert. He knew that this was what he wanted, but hearing the cold facts of his coming journey sounded so jarring. He still wanted time to adjust to it all. Finally he said to Robert, Thats too sudden. Robert put down the papers gently, but looking up Mark could see he was already almost on the verge of anger. Im doing this for you, and you do not have the right to dictate terms. You should be happy Im doing this for you in the first place. And you murdered someone, did you not? You should be happy youre escaping the law.

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Mark looked Robert in the eye and shouted, No, I did not! I didnt kill anyone, I didnt shoot anyone. Whatever the police say, its a lie! Is it, Mark? They saw you with the gun, your fingerprints are the only ones on the gun. The murder weapon is yours. The two bullets in their bodies match your gun, only. There were two shots fired from your gun, and those two bullets were found in their body. What else could it be? Admit it Mark, you fired the gun. No, I didnt do it. I never would kill anyone. After first insisting on the truth in anger, now Mark was less sure. Robert continued to press him, now leaning farther forward, almost getting in Marks face over the table. His voice was louder as he said to Mark, Dont lie! Youre just lying, arent you? You shot those two men. You took the gun, you looked them in the face, and you shot them. Mark dropped his head, and his voice lacked any conviction, I didnt do it. Now youre really lying. Stop it. Robert was almost shouting. Im not sure, OK. Just stop, I... Youre sure, you really did do it. Im not sure, its all a blur, and maybe... No maybes Mark, it really happened. You shot them. ...I shot them. There was sudden silence in the room. Robert stopped interjecting, Mark sat the table, his head in his hands, and his shoulders shaking. He was truly broken. Robert sat staring at him. The contempt in his face was obvious. His only thought for Mark was that he was truly a weak person, to be broken so soon. Robert had faced much, much worse, and dished out the same treatment many times. Most men did not break down until at least an hour. And Mark had cracked in just a few minutes, like the weak coward he was. Robert shook his head, almost sneered, and then said in a loud voice, You can come in now. Mark did not look up as Robert said those words, but as the door opened, and he heard footsteps, he finally looked up. He wiped

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away a few tears, but then forgot all about the shame when he saw who was coming in. There were two men, dressed in suits, looking very business-like. With a sinking feeling, Mark realized that they were not simply business associates of Robert. Thank you, Robert, one of the men said, nodding to Robert. Then he turned to Mark and said, Mark Conrad, I arrest you on the suspicion of committing two murders in the Bronx on November 19, 2009. Horrified, Mark only stared at him, and found nothing he could say. His face registered nothing but surprise and shock. The second man snapped handcuffs on his wrists, and Mark did not resist. As if in a dream, he heard the first man continue to read through his rights. He had the right to a lawyer, right to silence, anything he said...Mark had heard it all, but he could not believe that he himself was the criminal now. He flexed his arms, and he realized they were boundhe could not move them apart from each other more than six inches. It was the first time in his life he had been bound like this. The second man placed a firm hand on his shoulder, and began to lead him out of the room. Mark complied docilely. But as they walked out of the room, Mark saw Robert standing there with an expression approaching almost smugness. And Mark realized, remembering the words of the first man, thanking Robert for his help. It had all been a ploy. Robert had set a trap for Mark, for his own brother, and given him up to the police. He had given him up to his death, for a murder he had not committed. Over his shoulder, as they left the room, Mark shouted in a hate-filled voice, Youll pay for this, Robert. On my life, youll pay for this! His voice was not indecisive, but full of anger and hate. Robert did not raise an eyebrow as he turned to Detective Walker, and said, Remember our deal. Do whatever you want to Mark, but you cannot touch Aimee for helping him. You got that? Detective Walker nodded, and followed his colleague out of the door. After he left Roberts sight, he shook his head again, marveling at the hate displayed in the Conrad family.

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The two detectives and Mark took a concealed exit out of the Conrad Hotel building. It would not do for the guests and other who used the luxury building to see that there was a criminal being arrested on the premises. And it especially would not do if they heard that the criminal just being arrested and led out in handcuffs was someone suspected of a double murder committed in one of the poorest districts of New York. The blow to the reputation of Conrad Hotel would be irreparable. Naturally, Robert had thought of that, and had arranged that the officers enter and leave out of sight of his clients. As Agent Moss bundled Mark in the back seat, Detective Walker called Greg. Commissioner Cade, I want to report a successful mission. We picked him up without incident, and were on the way to the station now. Greg received the news without comment, but as he hung up his phone, he was still troubled. They had their man, but it had been too easy. Robert had never cooperated with the police. Why had he suddenly lent a hand now? There had to be something more to this than met the eye.

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Chapter 8

Aimee was now on her lunch break. It had been a hard day at work, as it usually was. Her decision-making was never easy, and it seemed like someone always had a problem with what she did, in the end, no matter what it was that she decided. She sighed as she remembered this. However, despite the worries that plagued her in the workplace, she still felt free. In the past few days she had felt as if there was a great weight on her back, crushing any other thought. Now, though she was free. She did not have any more worries. She could focus on her work, which made her decision making better, which made her job less stressful, so she could focus even more, and the self-improving cycle continued indefinitely. She smiled as she felt the joy washing over her. However, this joy was tempered when she remembered why she was feeling so happy. It was only because of the absence of Mark that she was feeling so free. He had tethered her, weighed her down, relied on her when he had no right to, and she had allowed him to weigh her down. Now he was gone. There would be no more trips late at night to his apartment in the slums, no more cross-town trips to retrieve him, no more illegal harboring of a murdererbut he was not a murderer. She had to remind herself of that. But she quickly passed over that thought. She was freethat was all that mattered. For the first time in what seemed like months, she could enjoy her lunch. For once, she could forget all about the Conrad family problems, all the aches and pain and heart-break. She

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could relax now, and enjoy her own life in peace, free of all the burden. She tucked into her meal with enthusiasm. ****************************** Mark sat stiffly in the back of the car. He felt imprisoned, caged, and he knew it was not just a feeling. He was sitting in the back of a police car, with bars between him and the two detectives in front, and he had handcuffs on his wrists. For the first time in his life, he was trapped and unable to go where he wanted. He had always had freedom, a freedom to escape from authority. Now, authority had reimposed itself on him, and it was not a kind and merciful authority. No, he had to pay now, pay the law for his crimes. But then, he did not have to pay for themhe had not committed murder. Mark had to struggle hard to remind himself of that. He had been weak, allowing Robert to force him into a confession. It was falsehe was sure of that. He obviously had done nothing wrong. But how could he say it was obvious, if all the evidence was against him? The long arm of the law did not take into account his personal troublesit was supposed to be objective, and the objectiveness would condemn him to death. Mark was sure of it. He slumped down in the seat. He knew that he could not escape legallyall the evidence was against him. The law would not be bribednot in this case. And he could not turn to Roberthe was the very one who had betrayed him. His mother could do nothing, and neither could Aimee. Mark shut his eyes as his spirits sank even lower. ****************************** Robert was watching the lunchtime news programs. It had only been a few minutes since the arrest, and but the news had already hit the airwaves, thank to a quick tip provided to the right reporter.

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It was Roberts triumphhe had killed two birds with one stone. He had gotten rid of that pesky brother, the one who had bothered him so long, with his never-ending requests for money. Plus, Aimee would not bother him any more with her moral pleas. He had officially cleared himself or anyone in his organization with any link to the gangs, which had been the real murderers. Robert leaned back in his comfortable armchair and surveyed the city skyline with satisfaction. Now, the only thing was to wait for Antonios reply. He would strike back, since it was his man that had been killed. They were in a never-ending war, and they always had to strike back, to avoid losing face and, more importantly, losing power. They were gigantic titans waging a battle, invisible yet so important to the city of New York. So far, neither one had been able to strike the death blow, but sometime there would be someone, something that would upset the balance, and completely win the battle for one side or the other. Robert was sure that he would emerge the victor. He was sure of it. ****************************** The car pulled up, and Mark could see that they had stopped at the police station. He looked up dully as the car door opened, and a gruff, no-nonsense voice commanded shortly, Get out. Mark did not resist as they pulled him out. He half-fell out, but they disregarded this, and instead pulled him up the stairs into the police station. There were flashes of light around him, and Mark became dimly aware that they were photographers. He could not understand why they would want to photograph him. And how did they know, so soon after his arrest? It was impossible. The flashes of the light bulbs were almost blinding, and Mark tried to shield his eyes with his hands. He immediately found it impossiblewith a jerk, he remembered that his hands were still cuffed. The two officers flanking him hastened their steps, and Mark stumbled up the stairs

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between them. Finally, they entered the safe confines of the station, away from the flashing of the bulbs and the searching of the cameras. But to Mark, the station was not in the least comforting. The law was no longer the protector; it was the prosecutor, ready to shut him in and lock him up, literally. The walls seemed to be collapsing on him. The next few minutes passed in a blur, as he was checked in. Mark was dimly aware that his mug shot was being taken. His face showed no expression as he was being photographed. Finally, the preliminaries were done, and without ceremony, he was pushed into a small cell, barely ten feet by ten. His handcuffs were quickly unlocked; the jailer stepped out, slamming the door behind him. Looking around him, Mark saw only an iron bed, covered with one very thin mattress, and a scratchy, dirty-looking blanket on top of it. There was a sink, and a cracked and dirty mirror, and that was the extent of the furnishings of his room. Mark sank onto the bed, feeling its hardness, and his spirits sank to their lowest depth yet. He buried his head in his hands, trying to forget it all and block it all out. He failed, and his shoulders began to shake. Eventually, Mark was interrupted in his tears by the door to his cage opening. A police officer appeared, and said, Get up. As the guard handcuffed him again, Mark wondered where he was going now. But he did not really care anymore. He was resigned to his fatehe accepted the fact now that he would be prosecuted, and sentenced to a life in prison, death row...it all was possible, and it was going to happen. He was sure. He shuffled down the long row of cells, with the guard pushing him with a firm hand in his back. There were other prisoners there, sitting, standing, staring out the window, or staring at Mark. They were real criminals, and Mark was the innocent one. Nevertheless, Mark was imprisoned just like they were. Mark glanced briefly to the left and right, and then hurriedly stared straight ahead when he caught the eye of some of the prisoners. In their gazes, he saw real hatred and anger.

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Mark was shoved into a featureless room, with only two chairs and a table. This was where he would be questioned, and the truth would all come spilling out. Mark could see the two-way window, which he could not see through, but he was sure there was someone on the other side, watching him. He stared at the wall, thinking that his life would now be like that blank wall. Instead of starting his life anew, as he thought he would be doing in the morning, he was ending it. He was still staring at the wall as the door opened, and Agent Moss walked in. The steel door closed behind him with a loud click, locking automatically. The steel chair scraped as Agent Moss pulled it back, sat in it, and then pulled it up to the table. Good afternoon, Mark. His tone was businesslike, as if he was completing a routine business transaction. Mark did not reply. Youre going to be on trial for two murders. The evidence is already there to indict you, and its probably also going to get you convicted. So, youre looking at life in prison, and probably, a death sentence. It depends on how good your lawyer is. So, any way you look at it, your options are not good. Moss finished his introductory speech and looked for a reaction from Mark, but Mark was looking down at his lap, saying nothing and avoiding eye contact. Moss stood up, and began to slowly walk around the room, circling the table and Marks chair. So, you go on trial, and nothing good can happen to you, guaranteed. You only have one good option left. Moss suddenly spun around and yelled the face of Mark, Look at me, Conrad! Hearing the command in his voice, Mark slowly looked up, and cowered before his angry face. You have one optionyou tell me everything you know about Robert. At these words, Moss finally got the reaction he wanted. Mark looked up briefly at him, in the eye, before dropping his chin back onto his chest. So youre interested? Its the only option you have. Your brother has many shady connections, and with your help, we can nail him. I know your relationship isnt good, Mark, but this is your

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chance, to get him back. If you help us, maybe we can help you. Give us the information you need, and then maybe your sentence will only be a few years in minimum-security prison. What do you think? Mark looked up at him, his eyes filled with wonder. He had thought his life completely over, his future filled with nothing blank prison walls. But now, he had a reprieve. This FBI agent was offering him life again. Then Mark began to think about what it was that the agent really wanted. What could he really tell them about Robert? After thinking for a long time, with Moss waiting patiently, Mark said slowly, I want to call a lawyer. Moss sighed and pushed himself up from the table. He walked away and stared the blank wall, with his back to Mark. Finally, he said, Youll have your lawyer. But youd better think long and hard about what I just told you. Its the only way youll be able to avoid a life in prison, at least. Moss walked out. Mark was once again left alone with his thoughts. His hands were still cuffed, so he could only sit there, waiting for whoever was going to come through the door. ****************************** Robert was still savoring his triumph when his phone rang. Mr. Conrad, this is Commissioner Cade. I just want to thank you again for your help in remanding your brother. Taking a murder suspect off the streets is a great help to the city of New York. Thank you for taking the time, Commissioner. However, I dont think thats why you called. Cade grimaced in embarrassment as Robert guessed correctly. He knew that Robert could not see him, but he felt that Robert could feel his embarrassment anyway. He answered, Yes, that is correct. The reason for my call is that your brother has just requested a lawyer. Do you wish for him to have court-appointed

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one, or do you want to pay for one for him? You are his brother, after all. Roberts good mood from his triumph was short-lived. His words now came clipped and short. I will do nothing of the kind. My brother is a criminal, and one who came to me for money far too often. I would never dream of giving him a lawyer. He can get a court-appointed lawyer, and thats all that he deserves. Dont bother me with these ridiculous questions again. Robert ended the conversation abruptly, and Greg was left holding the phone. He gently replaced the phone and sighed. It appeared that this process was going to be more difficult than he thought. Now they could only wait to see what Mark really knew. He would be the decider, the one who held the key to the result of this soap opera. Already, Greg was tiring of the drama that surrounded this case. He wished to wash his hands of it, declare it over, the suspects convicted, and justice served. But it was so complicated, because it involved the Conrad familyspecifically, Robert Conrad. Greg leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling, trying to find inspiration for the solution to this case. ****************************** Before the lawyer came, Marks handcuffs were finally removed. He massaged the marks where they had pressed against his wrists. His new lawyer, the one he had never met before, entered. The man Mark would be entrusting his life in looked almost as young as Mark, and he was all business. He wore a wonderfully tailored suit, a perfectly pressed shirt, and a three-piece suit, with a shiny black briefcase to boot. Mark was impressed. The lawyer sat down at the table and set his briefcase down beside him. He opened it, removed a folder, and set it on the table. He glanced up at Mark, who said nothing, and then said, Good afternoon, Mark, Im the lawyer assigned to your case, and my name is Daniel Johnson. Ill be defending you. But first, I need to ask you a few questions. I know that youre innocent. He paused

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and looked at Mark reassuringly. Mark shifted his gaze back to the floor. But obviously, Daniel continued, I have to convince the jury of that. The problem is, theres enough evidence against you, as I see it, to get to a trial easily. A grand jury will indict you quickly. You understand my meaning? Mark looked up slowly, then shook his head. Daniel checked a impatient reply and started again. There will be preliminary trial, held in front of whats called a grand jury, to determine whether there is enough evidence to bring the case to a full trial, to decide whether you are guilty or innocent. I believe that there is enough evidence, unfortunately, so that you will be indicted, and you will face a trial jury to determine your fate. But just because theres enough evidence for the trial to take place does not mean that you will be convicted. I can fight, and I believe we have enough to get you to escape execution, certainly, maybe even prison completely. You can walk away completely free, if the right cards are played. But you need to help me out here, OK? Daniel looked hard at Mark. Finally, Mark lifted his head, and nodded wordlessly. Daniel continued, Alright then, I need to start with a few questions. At this, he picked up the papers on the table and began shuffling through them. Mark looked at them with bleary eyes. He knew that this would be a long, wearisome process. He almost wanted to accept his fate. Trying to fight it, as Daniel was now telling him they must do, would be so much trouble. Mark was tired of life and tired of trying to fight the tide. He just wanted to give in, and let it overwhelm him. He did not care anymore. His eyes began to close, his body sagged forward. His head drooped and almost hit the table. His stupor was interrupted by Daniels sharp voice, pulling him out of the void he wished to sink into. Mark, we have to focus. Daniel was not angry, but his voice betrayed his impatience with his uncooperative client. Do you want me to help you or not? If you dont, then youre going to lose this case, guaranteed.

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Mark wanted to say that yes, he was ready to give up, but he was vaguely aware that it would be somehow inappropriate. Through unfocused eyes he looked at the documents Daniel had spread before him, and he tried to focus on what Daniel was saying. It was just so difficult. Daniel was still talking, and he said, Alright, we can focus again. Now, I was just told that you were offered a plea bargain. Is that right? Mark nodded, concentrating a little harder. And what did you say to that? Speaking his first words since Daniel had entered the room, Mark said, I said nothing. I only asked for a lawyer. OK, that was the right thing to do. You shouldnt accept it. You can get better at the trial. With the bargain, youre still getting prison time, guaranteed. Maybe five years, minimum. But you stick with what I tell you, and you can walk out of here a free man. No! Mark slammed the table with his fist, and Daniels poise was broken for the first time as he jumped. I dont want it anymore. I accept the plea bargain, and thats all. Theres not going to be a trial, no publicity, no cross-examinations. I just want it to be easy, OK. Daniel recovered, and then nodded. Less brusquely, he said quietly, OK, Ill talk to the police. Ill be back. He quickly gathered up his papers, put them in his briefcase, and then almost ran out. Mark leaned back in his chair, which he had been sitting in for at least the past two hours. He was beginning to feel sore. He sighed, and looked at the ceiling lights. Life was so difficult, and he knew his gut feeling was righthe would just let life to come to him, and submit to whatever was brought before him. He would submit, because that was what he had been doing all his sorry life. ******************************

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Mark was awoken by the clicking of the door opening. Daniel entered again, without his briefcase. He did not sit down, but stood by the door. OK, if you want to talk with them, you can do it now. But first they have to move you to another station, more secure, so they can talk to you. Ill see you later. With that, Daniel ducked out of the room in a hurry. As he left, two guards came in. They carried handcuffs, and once again Marks hands were restrained. The guards took him with firm, unyielding hands. Their tight grips started to hurt immediately, but Mark did not say anything. He kept his head down as they propelled him out of the room, through the long, dark halls, and then through a side door, into a waiting police car. The two guards shoved him into the back seat, and slammed the door it behind him. Once again, Mark was in a police car, taking him to an unknown destination, and he was completely helpless. He only wanted the sham to end. That was all he was doing now; playing for time. The truth was he knew nothing about Robert. He knew that Robert had shady dealings in the underworld, but he had no idea of the specifics. Robert had certainly never told him, and Mark did not want to know, and did not have the motivation to find out. Aimee did have motivation, and she knew what was going on, as she always did. She could probably tell them everything they wanted to know to convict Robert. But Mark could not. Ironically, after all the times he had wanted to destroy Robert and everything he stood for, now, when he had the chance to do so, he could do nothing. He was helpless, a mere pawn, and useless to the police. Once the law realized that, they would discard him to the garbage heap, and he would face the justice he deserved. With these thoughts weighing heavily on him, Mark slumped further into his seat. ******************************

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Antonio sat at his desk, organizing the newest strike operation. As Ive been told, theyre transferring him right now, as we speak. You have only twenty minutes to intercept the car, and get him out. Do not kill him, I need him alive. Do you understand me? On the other end, Karl affirmed that he could really do this. He had a lot of experience in this department. He hung up his phone, and immediately started organizing his men. He knew that with such a short time frame, every second was precious. He ran through the halls of the run-down house, shouting orders, rousing sleeping men, and grabbing his guns. He got on his phone again, and relayed orders to his agents throughout the city. Within two minutes, Karl had organized five men in one car, and he hopped into another car with half a dozen more men, all fully armed and ready to complete the mission. They drove through the streets ignoring any speed limits, screeching around corners, and passing other vehicles without regard for road safety. No pedestrians paid any attention to the dozen men in the two cars, even though they brazenly displayed their firearms. It was commonplace, so no one lifted an eyebrow or even turned their head. It was much better to hunker down and avoid being seen. If you stuck out to those kinds of people, all you were asking for was trouble. A third car was dispatched to follow the police car. The tracker stayed not too far behind the car, so that he would lose it at a stop light, but not close enough that anyone inside the police car would notice their mysterious follower. Even if the driver of the tailing car had not been so careful, no one inside the car was observant enough to notice. Mark was definitely not in the mood to notice anything going on outside the car, and the police officers in the front seat were concentrating on the busy roads of New York City. However, it always paid to be cautious, as the driver following them knew, especially when you were following the police. So, he weaved in and out of traffic, braking and accelerating when needed, and skillfully changing lanes

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in the midst of the New York City traffic. He simultaneously updated his fellow gangsters on the progress the car was making. The two cars filled with gangsters were now racing to the cut-off point, where they could intercept the car and complete the mission. It could not be in the citythere were too many cars, and too great a chance of interference or resistance. But in just a few minutes, the police car would be turning down a less-traveled road. This was the point where they could get them. The two police officers in the front continued on their way, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited them. They had driven the distance between the two police stations many times, and in their minds this was simply yet another routine drive, with nothing to worry about. At the usual place, they turned left, and started driving down a more deserted road, which led past several factories. These were buildings with few windows, and even fewer people walking the streets. The gangs of Antonio had great power, and could do many things in the open daylight, but it always paid to make sure there were as few witnesses to a crime as possible, especially when it directly involved the police. As the car reached nearer and nearer to the place where the two cars were waiting to intercept it, the nerves of the gangsters began to fray. This would require precision and perfect timing, to pull it off. Anything less, and they would be forced to go back to Antonio, reporting a failed mission, and with empty hands. Karl knew all too well that this was suicideliterally. That was why he himself was at the wheel of the first car, and was going to call out exactly when they would spring into action. Now the car was only yards away. It was driving parallel to another large factory building, and was approaching the end of the block. Hidden behind the building, to the right and on the left, were the two cars, ready to ram into the police car. Karl began to sweating as he tensed himself for the precise moment. Finally, the police car reached the exact point they needed, and he shouted the order as he floored the gas pedal. The car shot forward, as did the one on the opposite side of the street. They both burst from their hiding place, too quickly for the police drivers to

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react. Instantly, and perfectly, they met the police car from the right and the left. It was a perfect T-bone; the police officers had no chance. Mark was sitting in the back seat, continuing with his depressed thoughts, when he felt the huge shock to his body They managed to hit the front of the car, rather the middle, or the back, and crushed the two police officers in the front seat, rather than Mark. There was a terrific bang, and Mark was thrown against the seat backs in front of him. Then there was a ringing in his head. Quickly, almost before he had time to realize what had happened, the door opened, and a hand shot inside and pulled him out. Mark was dragged out of the car, head first, and then thrown to the ground. Then he was picked up again, and quickly dumped into the back of another car. His handcuffs were still on, and his head was still ringing, but his new guards did not care. The door slammed, the engine started, and the car shot off. Once again, Mark was in the back seat, helpless, and having no idea where he was going. He was dumped unceremoniously into the back seat, where he bounced around until he rolled onto the floor. It was dirty, but Mark had no way to get himself off of it. He pushed his head off the floor, and looked at the ceiling of the car. He tried to catch a glimpse of his new captors, but he could not see even the back of their heads. The best he could do was snatch small parts of their conversation. Yeah, we got this now, you can call the boss. Success, baby! said one of the men, the one driving. To Mark, it seemed he was excited about something that had just happened. Mark could not figure out anything that would make them happy. What about the two cops? said the one in the passenger seat. Theyre dead. We took care of them, like we always do. The passenger laughed, which did not seem very nice or reassuring to Mark. Mark had no love lost for the police, but anyone who enjoyed the killing of police officers did not seem like a good person. The car was now driving through the streets of New York at a furious pace. The gangsters had been in a hurry to get to the interception point, and they were in even more of a hurry to get out.

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They wanted to leave the populated city center, where police lurked and they were in danger, and return to the safety of the Bronx. There, they had free reign to do as they wished. After several more minutes of fast and furious driving, and more bumping around on Marks part, they finally pulled up. Mark got one more bump on the head as a result. The door opened, and he was hauled out of the car by his shirt. For the first time, he was able to look his captors in the light. They had been wearing full face masks, but now they took them off. Seeing their faces and weapons, Mark knew immediately they were gangsters. His spirits sank. Then he saw the leader, and he became even more despondent. Hello, Mark, said Karl, with a humorless smile. Mark shuddered and did not smile back.

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Chapter 9

They dragged him into a run-down factory, which had only a single chair in the middle. The sun was shining on it, and Mark immediately became nervous. They did not take off his cuffs, but instead shoved him in the chair. Karl took out his gun, cocked it loudly so that Mark could see and hear it, and then pointed it at his head. You take one step, or you try to run, and.... There was no need for him to continue. Mark understood him perfectly. Then Karl walked away. Mark could hear his footsteps echoing out of the warehouse, and the footsteps of his minions. But then he could hear nothing more. There was only silence. It seemed as if he was alone. Mark wanted to turn around, and see if there was anyone there, but he did not dare to do so. He wanted to run, but he thought about the warning that Karl had just imparted. He sat on the chair, stock-still, not daring to move a single muscle. Then he heard footstepsnew ones. They were slow, and to Mark they seemed menacing, full of terror. He waited anxiously. They were coming from behind him, so he had no way of seeing who it was. But he could see the shadow, getting closer and closer, and blocking out even more of the light. Finally, the footsteps stopped, and the shadow was directly over Mark. He winced, waiting for somethinga death blow, a voice, or something that would break the tension, and tell him who he was facing. But thenthere was nothing. The shadow was still

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there, but there was no movement, no sound from behind him. Mark wondered if it was all just a dream. He wanted to turn around and make sure, but now he was paralyzed with fear. He just wanted to see who he was facing, this nameless person standing behind him. Mark broke out into a sweat, and his heart rate spiked. You have something I want. The voice boomed out, filling the huge warehouse, and echoing around and around. The voice sounded nothing like Robert, but the tone, the confidence, and command contained in it was the same. Slowly, the speaker walked around from behind the chair, turning to face Mark. As Mark saw him fully, he recognized that it was Antonio. Mark had met him only 24 hours ago, but that was such a long time ago. Back then, when Mark was free Antonio had been intimidating. Now that Mark was his prisoner, Antonio was terrifying. Only Marks hands were restrained, but he felt as if he could not move a muscle. After staring hard at Mark for several seconds, Antonio continued, You cultivated the confidence of Jamal. My younger brother, Jamal, you kept him as a friend, cultivated that friendship, and gained his confidence. And when he, being so friendly, decided to let you into the circle, into our circle, you immediately fought back. You betrayed us, and that group you were with. You told your brother, did you not? You ambushed your own group, ran them into a group from Robert. Did you know that 5 men died that night? Including Jamal? Antonio raised his eyebrows, and again looked hard at Mark, as if expecting an answer to that question. For his part, Marks eyes were now firmly fixed on the floor, far away from the hard eyes of Antonios. You killed your friends, and you killed Jamal. Yes, your best friend, the only one you had. Didnt you, Mark? You had no friends, no one to trust in, no one in your confidence. Except for Jamal. And then, you threw it all away, you spit on all that, and cursed it. You destroyed it all. Isnt that what you did? Antonio had been circling the chair and speaking softly, but he suddenly spun around, grabbed the chair, and put his faces inches

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from Marks face. He shouted, Is that what happened? Answer me, you coward! Face your accusations, tell me you did to them! Now Mark could not look away. His gaze was full of bewilderment, as he had just listened to the last five minutes of his speech. He knew he had killed no one and he had betrayed no one. Mark stammered, I....I never killed anyone. I never killed Jamal. Your fingerprints were on that gun! You shot him, in cold blood! Answer me! Again, Antonio almost screamed this in Marks face. No...no, I didnt do anything. I would never betray anyone... Mark shifted his gaze, and tried to shift away from Antonio. Antonios grip just grew tighter. Dont lie! Stop denying, youve done that all your life. Tell the truth for once. Now Marks eyes stopped wondering, and he looked Antonio full in the face. Fine. I didnt kill him, I didnt kill anyone. I didnt fire a shot that night. Theres your truth. Mark felt an urge to spit on Antonios face, only inches from his. At these defiant words, Antonio paused from issuing another shouting answer. For the first time, he hesitated in the conversation. Then he let go of the chair and stood up. He began again to pace slowly, his back to Mark. Then he whirled around again. At first, Mark thought that he would start shouting in his face again, but instead Antonio stood there, looking at Mark, seeming to contemplate him, and measure his reaction, and plan what the next step was. It was the same look Mark had seen many times on Roberts face, as he had planned the next greatest maneuver for his business empire. So, you deny it. Once again, Antonio was back to his soft, persuasive voice. Again, Mark drew similarities between him and Robert. He was going to try and coerce Mark into something, make him think he wanted to do something, through the power of his voice alone. For once, Mark had stood up to him, figuratively speaking, and now Antonio was forced to use a different track. Even while still

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being terrified, Mark almost felt pride coursing through his veins at what he had done. He had actually defied the great Antonio, who made people shake in their shoes. But the problem was, Antonio was still talking, and Mark was still shaking visibly. You deny the truth, and you wont be shaken. Antonio stopped and smiled. It seemed to be like any other smile, but in the situation, and knowing the person who was talking, the smile sent chills through Marks spine, when just seconds before he had been proud of himself. The change of mood was remarkable. Antonio continued, The thing is, Im a forgiving guy, and he smiled again. Hearing those words, with yet another smile, Mark felt even colder. Antonios reputation on the street was not as a forgiving person. As I said, you have something I want. Lets say, I have some...problems with your older brother. I wont bore you with the details, but my main problem is the fact that he is still alive. A man like him does not deserve to populate the face of the earth. Thankfully, he is one of a kind. If there were more, I hate to think what the world would be like. But I tell you all this, to let you know one thing. Your life currently hangs in the balance, hanging by one thread. There is a bullet just waiting to be shot right at your heart. There is only thing to prevent this wonderful calamity. The face of Antonio lit up with an unearthly smile, which seemed ghastly to Mark. I understand you have no attachment to your brother. Theres no love lost between you, correct? Mark said nothing. The smile disappeared off Antonios face, and he snapped, Answer me. Stop being a coward, and answer my questions. Take responsibility, dont hide, you coward. Mark swallowed hard, and answer slowly, Yes... Antonio laughed, a great booming laugh that filled the huge warehouse. The laugh was even more disconcerting to Mark than the smiles. It conveyed terror to the listener, and power in the voice of the laugher. Everything about Antonio was terror conveyed in human form. And Mark could feel that terror, in every syllable that Antonio

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uttered, and every footstep that he walked, and every single expression on his face. Finally, Antonios laughter stopped, and he said, So, you finally admit something and taking responsibility. I almost expected you to deny everything that I said. So, now that you make the important step, then maybe you can take this announcement Im about to make like a man. As I said, Robert is the man I hate most in the world, and I do not believe that he deserves to live a second longer. The problem is, your brother isnt stupid like you. His security is world-class, as I have discovered through many...experiments. So, I need you to go to his house, and shoot him. You understand me? I need you to kill your brother. Mark stared at him. He had been listening to his speech for ten minutes, waiting to see what the result would be, and getting even more and more confused. But as he heard the final words of Antonio, he was snapped out of any confusion. He was now in pure shock and horror at the words, and the real meaning of what he had said. Mark had not shot those men, as the police had tried to make him confess so many times. He had done nothing wrong and nothing illegal. And he definitely would never, ever take a gun and shoot someone in cold blood. Most of all, most importantly, he would never do that to his brother. Even with all the hate that had been between them in the past, and especially very recently, Mark had not even imagined that he wanted to kill him. And he would definitely never carry out that action in real life. No! Mark shouted, straining at his cuffs. Now he had no fear of Antonio or what he stood for. He did not fear his power, or what Antonio could do to him. He was definite that he could never commit such an atrocity. I wont do it, he continued, at a slightly lower volume. Thats crazy, if you think in any way you can force me to kill my own brother. Are you insane? Antonio paused, letting Mark vent his anger. When he was finished, Antonio said smoothly, Oh, but you will, Mark. Dont kid yourself about it. You have no choice.

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I do, and I wont do it, at all, ever. Thats final. Mark finished the sentence breathing heavily, and he sat back in his chair feeling satisfied that he had made his point. Antonio smiled that ghastly smile again, showing all his white teeth. He held it for several seconds, testing Mark to see if he would react. However, Mark still held firm. Abruptly, the smile disappeared, and the business face of Antonio reappeared. I think you are forgetting, Mark, that you are my prisoner. I could do anything I wanted to you. I could shoot you in your chair, if I chose to do so, and no one would notice. Youre worthless, and no one cares about. I could shoot you like a dog, and no one would care. You realize that? Marks spirit sank, as he realized the truth of Antonios words. He knew that it was true, as he had thought the same kind of thoughts many, many times in the past. He was worthless, and no one cared about him. His life or death had no meaning to anyone, not even his own family. But then he reason more calmly. He realized the error of his thinking, and flaw in what Antonio said. You cant shoot me, Mark said defiantly, almost spitting in Antonios face, Im the only one who can kill Robert, you remember. I am not worthless, and you can do nothing to me. Antonio smiled once again, but this time it was not a ghastly smileit was actually humorous. Well done, Mark. Youve finally figured it out. But of course, that realization is not going to help you at all, or anyone else. You see, I know whats important to you. Apparently, its not your own life, since you just said youre willing to be shot. However, I cant take that away from you, as you just so honestly said. But what else is there in your life that matters, Mark? What, in your heart, is something you live for, and you could never recover, if it was taken away from you? Think about it, think hard. The smile was still on Antonios face, as Mark did think hard about it. Put on the spot, he suddenly had no idea what it was that he valued in life. As he reviewed his life in his mind, and his memories flashed before him, he suddenly could not tell. Forced to

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summarize his hearts desires, he could not do so. Anything he said, it seemed as if it would be too...trivial. Games, fluff, and nothing substantial. He could see it all now, that he had devoted his life to absolutely worthless things that had no meaning in real life to anyone, to him or to anyone else. And yet it mattered to him. It was really the most important thing in his life, he thought. But he could not say that out loud. It was so....silly. His life had been silly, he saw. Mark did not want to say the real truth, but Antonio did not give him the time to do so anyway. He broke in on Marks train of thought, and said, Well, I dont know all of your personal life, so I cant tell all the things you love most in this world. But, I am pretty sure about one thing. In fact, as sure as I am about your hatred of Robert, I am also certain that your love of Aimee runs just as deep. Admit it, Mark. Shes the only person who you could really rely on, throughout your whole life. And since youre too chicken to shoot Robert, even though you hate him with a passion, I think that you will need some motivation. In fact, I presumed as much before we even had this little conversation. He turned around, and said in a voice booming through the warehouse, Bring her in. Mark saw a door open to his right, and two men lead a figure through the door, similarly bound as Mark. Antonio turned back to Mark to see his reaction as the figure was revealed to be his own sister, bound and gagged. Mark stared. He had never imagined this; he could be prisoner, but she could never be like that. He relied on her for his strength, but now she was just like him: bound hand and foot. As they dragged her to where Antonio and Mark were standing, she did not struggle. She only kept her eyes fixed on Mark. Her eyes were piercing, and Mark shifted his eyes back to Antonio. Antonio was also staring hard at Mark and judging his reaction to the turn of events. Mark now shifted his gaze at the floor, anywhere but where he would have to see those two pairs of searching eyes. They finally finished dragging Aimee to the feet of Antonio, and then simply dumped her on the floor. She lay there, a few feet from Antonio, unable to get up because of the bonds on her hands

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and feet. She said nothing, and made no movement, but just lay there, looking up at Antonio. Antonio looked down at her, and turned back to Mark with a look of satisfaction on his face. So, you see how your web has now entangled your own sister? he asked, sounding like a correcting father. Mark could indeed see how he had drawn his own sister, the one person he could rely on, into the mess he alone had created. He had been almost resigned to what he was going to suffer, but now he was immensely ashamed at the damage he had done to his own familymost of all, to Aimee, the one person he loved most in the world. Mark did not respond to Antonios question, but instead hung his head. Antonio shook his head in disgust. Its your choice, Mark. You see, I brought Aimee here for a reason. It was almost too easy to capture her and bring her here. The police out there are not that great, even in broad daylight. Scary, is it not? He smiled, and then continued, So here she is, and you have a choice. Choose to spare your brother? If you really decide to spare Robert, decide not to do as I say you should, and instead become a pacifist...well, lets say that Aimee will still be lying here, but this time it will be in a pool of blood. You understand me? Mark closed his eyes, and leaned back. He rocked back and forth in apparent agony as he listened to the unrelenting voice of Antonio. Your choice, Mark, Antonio continued, Kill your brother or, through your inaction, kill your sister. Its all up to you this time, Mark. Theres nothing that anyone can do to save you. Youd better make up your mind. Mark knew that the terrible outcome that would result from whatever decision he took, and he knew that there was truly no shirking this decision now. He had to choose, and he could not duck it this time. He wished with all his heart it all would go away. All the choices, the deliberations, the terrible consequences of his choices he did not want any of it. Why did all have to depend on him? For a long time he sat with his eyes closed, repeating those thoughts over and over. Finally, his head snapped back up, and he opened his eyes.

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He looked at Aimee. Her eyes were still fixed on him, searching him and trying to read his body language and see what his decision would be. Mark understood now that this time, for once, he was the one who had to make the decisions for the two of them. She had always been the leader in the relationship, taking the initiative and deciding the best course of action. But now, none of that mattered. She was helpless, her hands tied, literally, and he was the only one who could do anything. Mark held her gaze. Then he looked up at Antonio, who was also waiting for him to reply. Mark stared defiantly at him. Mark knew what he needed to do, now there was no more cowering before Antonio. He had no fear of Antonio or anyone else now, and he was ready to overcome any obstacles that obstructed his plan. Mark said steadily, and in a low voice, Untie me, and give me a gun. Almost imperceptibly, Antonio raised his eyebrows, but he nodded and signaled to two of his men waiting in the wings, and they approached immediately. Untie this man, Antonio commanded The two men obeyed instantly. When they had finished unlocking his handcuffs, Mark stood up, somewhat unsteadily, and he rubbed his wrists, trying to get the blood flowing and circulation restored. Mark walked up to Antonio, who towered over him, and stared him in his face. Then, suddenly, Mark punched him. That is for forcing me to choose between my own family. Mark said. He did not run, but stood still, waiting for any repercussions that might come from his actions. The two men rushed at Mark, but Antonio stopped them with an upraised hand. He felt his jaw where Mark had punched him, a good solid punch that still stung. Then Antonio smiled. Give him a gun, men. His men exchanged glances, but they obeyed his word despite their misgivings. Mark was instantly given a gun. It was similar to the gun he had had several days ago, when he had gone on

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that ill-fated gang mission. But unlike that time, Mark did not shy away from holding the gun. Mark hefted it, feeling its weight and the power that came with it. If he pointed the gun at anyone, they would cower in fear. Mark was nobody, but with this gun, he could control people. Unlike his first reaction several days ago, he enjoyed it. He almost smiled as he held it, touched it, and experienced an adrenaline rush. Then he looked at Aimee, who was still on the floor. She was looking on, looking at him holding the gun. Her eyes said everything about what she thought. Mark shifted his eyes away, and tried to forget it. He focused his attention back to the gun. Antonio was saying, You have six rounds for this gun. You should not waste it, but I think even you could hit a person at five paces. One shot should be enough. Mark looked up from the gun and asked, And how do you propose I get out? You just expect me to shoot him on the 88th floor, and then just find my own way out. Yes, thats exactly what I expect you to do. Dont kid yourself. We have Aimee, and youre going to do exactly what I tell you. You go there, you finish the job, and if you make it out...alive, then maybe you get to see your sister. If you dont even try, then your sister is already dead. So youd better be good, or else. Antonio suddenly crossed over to Aimee, and picked her up roughly. With one hand, he held her up, and then ripped off her gag with the other. Say something, Aimee, to your beloved brother. Aimee did not fight, kick, or scream, but instead stood calmly, and looked pleadingly at Mark. Youre making a mistake, Mark. Theres another way. Mark ignored Antonio and stepped close to Aimee. Softly, he said, There is no other way. I have no other way to choose, no other option to pick. Its all over, and its come to this. I am sorry, so sorry I dragged you into this. You should never have been involved. I love you.

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With Antonio standing right there, and Aimee still tied hand and foot, Mark did not hug her, as he wanted to. Instead, he gave one more hard stare at Antonio and then turned away. Before he left, the two men gave him a cap. Antonio explained, This has a hidden camera. If you take this off, destroy it, or do anything that we dont like, then bang. Antonio did not have to say anything more on that matter. We can hear everything you say as well, so if you trying calling the police, then your sister is also dead that way. You can only go straight to Robert and shoot him. In fact, if you take too long about it, then well kill Aimee anyway. You understand? Mark cast one more glance back at Aimee, with two gangsters standing menacingly behind her with guns in their hands. Then he turned his back on them and stepped out of the warehouse.

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Chapter 10

They sat in the car in silence. The driver was Karl, who had just been beating up Mark and Aimee. Now he was Marks chauffeur, which might have seemed a bit awkward to Mark. However, he did not care about any of that at this point. He was concentrating on the mission in front of him, and even having a gangster chauffeur did not bother him anymore. Marks gun was sitting on his lap, and he did not try to hide it. Again, they were driving through the same bad neighborhood, and men with guns was not a new occurrence to any passerby. Mark himself had seen many people driving their weapons plainly visible. He had never imaged that he would follow in their footsteps, but here he was, looking to any passerby like a typical gangster. It flashed through his mind that he could never imagined 48 hours ago the situation he was in now, and he could never have believed the decisions he was now taking. But now, as he reviewed his actions over the past few days and contemplated the bigger picture of the recent weeks and months, he was not surprised. It was just one small step after another. The first one was moving to the neighborhood in the first place. Then he made friends with Jamal, even though before moving in he had promised himself that he did not want to make friends with someone he did not know anything about. And then Jamal had wanted Mark to go with him to meet people, even though that was another thing Mark had promised himself he would not dogo with one of his friends to meet strangers of uncertain reputation. He had

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reasoned that if he agreed, he would be forced into situations out of his control. But that was exactly what he did. And yet, it had been under his control. He could have, if he had had any real guts, refused to go with Jamal. Even then, when he had learned of their true mission, he could have run out of that house and never looked back. But since he was a coward and a weak fool who always went with the flow, and never made any real decisions for himself, he did go with them. And this was how he ended up. It was not his environment, but rather his own inaction that that led him to this situation. Mark did not deceive himself on this point and the brutal truth made him uneasy. However, he did feel good about one thing, at least. He had made a real decision for himself, for once. Still, even in his newfound confidence, he felt a twinge of guilt and a small seed of doubt. He remembered Aimee lying helpless on the ground with Antonio towering over her. The image plagued him, and Mark knew that to eliminate this image he had much more work to accomplish. Suddenly, Karl, who had been silent the whole ride said urgently, Hide your gun. Mark looked coolly at him, and said, Why? No one cares. He felt a thrill, knowing that he had just defied a gangster. He had no fear of him. The confidence disappeared when Karl replied angrily, Fool, theres a police car right behind us. Hide your gun, or were going to be busted. Mark twisted to look out the back of the car, and saw that Karl was right. Feeling like a fool, he quickly opened the glove compartment in front of him and dropped the gun inside it. He felt sick as he thought of what might happen if the police found them out. The lights of the police car began blaring, and Karl was forced to pull over. He reluctantly pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road and waited. Marks heart started to beat more heavily. The police officer got out of his car, and approached, so slowly it seemed to the nervous Mark. The police presence in this

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part of town had been heavily increased, for political reasons, to present a good show, after the murders a few days ago. The police officer was feeling a bit nervous himself, but he steeled himself. He had just received a tip about a vehicle passing through the neighborhood. Someone had actually had the guts to report someone driving around with guns openly displayed. The police officer checked his own gun, and loosened it in the holster. For sure, he did not want to get into a firefight. He did not have much backup in this part of town, and around here, he was sure that whoever he was dealing with, if they were criminals, they would have a lot of friends who would be more than willing to help them out. He knocked on the passenger side window of the car, and motioned for Mark to roll the window down. Mark did so, now with his heart beating even more. He tried to steady a shaking hand. On his left, Karl only stared at the officer and looked bored. Sir, said the policeman, addressing Karl, can I ask why you are driving out around town at this time? Karl, whose eyes were covered by sunglasses, looked at him and said with something approaching disdain, Were just two friends, and were taking a drive around town. Theres no law against that, is there? The police officer seemed to clench his jaw, and said stiffly, May I ask what its in that bag right there? pointing to a clear plastic bag sitting in the middle seat, between Mark and Karl. Both Mark and Karl looked at each other, and Karl mentally kicked himself. It was a bag full of marijuana. After Karl was supposed to drop Mark off, he was planning to do a run on the other side of town, and drop it off to one of the local contacts there. He said nothing, and did not answer the police officer. Mark only looked at Karl in complete bewilderment, and then back at the policeman, who was beginning to look angry. In a raised tone of voice, the police officer said, Sir, I would ask that you step out of the vehicle. Karl said flatly, No., and then stared defiantly at him.

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The police officer looked at him, holding his gaze. Then he said into the radio that was on his shoulder, I would ask for backup at 3rd Street and Madison Avenue. Then he returned his focus back to Karl and Mark. For the last time, step out of the vehicle, the officer said, his hand now resting on his belt, only inches from his holster and his loaded gun. Karl still continued to stare at him for several seconds. Then suddenly, in a sudden movement that Mark barely saw, he moved his hand, produced a gun from somewhere on his person, and fired one shot. Before the police officer fell to the ground, dead with a bullet through his forehead, Karl had gunned the engine, and within thirty seconds they were out of sight of anyone that might come running. Marks ears were still ringing at the sound of the guns repercussion inside the small car. He looked in amazement at Karl. Karl himself was unfazed, looking as if it was something he did all the time. Finally, Mark pulled himself out of his stupor and asked him, in a slightly choking voice, What was in the bag? Karl glanced at him, then turned his eyes back to the road. What you dont know wont kill you. And keep your mouth shut. They now turned from the deserted industrial part of town into the more populated urban centers. Karl had put his gun back wherever it had been before he had been forced to use it, and Mark kept his gun in the dashboard. He did not want to even touch it anymore. He was having doubts now. Could he really shoot Robert, as he had just seen Karl shoot the policeman? The police officer was a complete stranger, but Mark was still shaken even now. And Robert was his own brother. Mark stared at the teeming humanity on the streets, and shook his head. They all had no idea, not even the smallest hint of what he had to do. But then he remembered Aimee,

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tied up, and, for once, relying on him. At the most important moment in his life, he could not fail her. ****************************** The car pulled into the parking lot, and Karl said shortly, Get out. Mark grabbed his gun out of the dashboard, and climbed out. Immediately the door slammed after him. By the time Mark turned around, Karl had gunned the engine again, and he was out of the parking lot in seconds. He did not want to stick around; Mark would have to the terrors that awaited him in the hotel alone. For once in his life, Mark had to have the courage to stand up to his older brother. He had never done so, not even once, but now it was life or death, literally. Mark steeled himself, and felt the gun in his pocket. It was reassuring, a reminder of his power. But what did physical power matter to Robert? Mark knew that Robert had looked down the barrel of a gun many times, and not flinched. Mark would have to find the inspiration from somewhere within, and right now, Marks stomach did not feel like it had anything it had in it. He only had a sick feeling, right in the bottom of his gut. As much as Mark tried to ignore it, it stuck there, and Mark knew he could never make it go away, until the job was finishedor the job finished him. That feeling in his gut was just another obstacle he would have to overcome. Marks feet took him toward the front door. Again, as he had yesterday, he felt so out of place. The feeling was especially strong, now that his mug shot was out across New York City, and he had a price on his head. Mark slouched lower, and pulled his cap tighter over his head, trying to hide his features in any way possible. Touching his cap reminded him that he was not alone. The tiny camera on the bill of his cap was giving every picture to those gangsters back in the Bronx. Mark could not run away; the bridge was burned, and he had to soldier on.

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Mark felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see an untroubled face, one of the many porters who did the odd jobs around the lobby, staring back at Mark. Sensitively, in a low voice, he whispered in Marks ear, If you will come with me, sir, I think I can take you to where you need to go. Taken aback, Mark stammered, But...I dont need anything. I mean, Im just looking around... The porter nodded and said calmly, Mr. Conrad says that you had an appointment with him. I can take you there. Mark looked questioningly at the porter. He had never contacted Robert, and he was amazed that Robert even knew he was in the building. But then he was not surprised, as he knew that Roberts network had eyes everywhere. Mark also considered that if Robert already knew he was here, then did he know that the real mission of Mark? What was his real reason to invite Mark into his house? But Mark had no time to consider all the possibilities, as the porter was already walking across the lobby. Mark bit his lip, tried to keep down his doubts, and started to follow him. The porter led him away from the crowds, and into a side hall. The hall looked almost exactly the same as the one another porter had led him and Aimee down in the morning. Mark hoped with all his heart that this time it would not end as badly as it had this morning. He felt his gun, and was reassured that it would not be so. Away from the crowds, and walking in silent, lonely halls that were devoid of people, and only full of gold-encrusted railings and elegant and complex chandeliers, Mark felt his confidence rise again. His doubts were a thing of the past, only a momentary time of hesitation. He also steeled himself by reminding himself of his sister. This was a thought that he could not shake, and he continued to think of ithis sister, the one person whom he really loved, and who really loved him, was relying on him. She had stood by him during all his troubles, and now she was in the ultimate troublea matter of life and death. Mark remembered that keenly, and he squared his shoulders. Whoever was watching on the camera, if it were a

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gangster, maybe Antonio, even Aimee, they would not realize any fears he might have. The porter stopped at the end of a long hallway, where there were elevators, with gold-plated doors as usual. He pressed a button, and the doors slid open. A bellboy was standing inside, and the porter said quietly, 88th floor, and then motioned Mark to step inside. The porter bowed, and Mark stepped inside. The boy pressed the button, and the elevator began its smooth ride upwards. Mark looked at the bellboy, who was truly an adult, one who looked a good bit older than Mark was. Even the lowest station in the Conrad Hotel had the stiffest of competition; this bellboy was probably an experienced concierge with a good 10 or 15 years in the hotel service business, who had to start all over again at the lowest level. Conrad Hotel was known for its high standards. Naturally, Mark did not make those high standards, which was why he had never worked at the hotel. And even if he could, Mark did not want to work under such a strict system of authority; it was too oppressive, he thought. The elevator was on the outside of the building, and was made completely glass. Mark felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline, and also a touch of vertigo, as it climbed higher and higher. The bellboy seemed unfazed. However, Mark was willing to guess he had not made the ride to the 88th floor very often. That was the bosss floor, as every employee of Conrad Hotel knew. Robert was famous for his privacy, and no employee, except Cameron, had ever ventured inside his suite. And since Robert did not receive very many visitors, except the most important of VIPs, the bellboy probably did not have much occasion to press the button for the 88th floor. The bell rang, and the doors opened. Mark stepped out, ready to meet his fate. He went down yet another long hallway, and after a right turn, and then a left turn, he found himself at a towering steel door, stretching from floor to ceiling. It reminded Mark of the door to a castle. And, as he thought, that would not an inaccurate description.

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He put his hand on the pad that was at eye level on the wall to the left of the door. The doors did not open, as Mark knew they would not; they merely informed Robert that someone was at the door, and turned on the surveillance camera in front of the door. Mark waited nervously, tugging at his hat. Finally, the doors opened. Apparently, Robert had verified it was truly Mark that was standing outside his doors. Mark stepped into the inner sanctum. The doors opened into a large front room. It was dimly lit, and Mark had to strain his eyes to make out Robert coming towards him. Ah, yes, Mark, here you are again, at my doorstep, with nothing in the world, coming to me for help? Is that correct? Mark said nothing to this barb; he had become accustomed to these true insults from Robert. Dont stand on ceremony, Mark. Please, take off your hat. Now Mark hesitated. If the camera was blocked, Antonio had said that Aimee would die. But then Robert would insist. Mark compromised by laying the hat on the small table beside him, still facing Robert. So, you escaped from the police. I am surprised, I didnt think you had the guts or the wits to do so. Mark still did not speak, wondering how he would introduce the topic. To shoot his own brother; should he just take out the gun and shoot him? The ridiculousness of the situation hit him; then the incredible seriousness also struck him again. Aimees in danger, Robert. Antonios holding her, Mark said urgently. I came to see you about it. She needs your help. In the dim light, it was difficult to see Roberts face, but it seemed to Mark the sudden announcement elicited a small raising of the eyebrows. However, Robert was smooth as he replied, And what do you suggest I do about it? You have to die, Robert. Mark was at the end of his rope; the events of the past few days had strung him out emotionally and physically. He saw no other way to say it. As he made his statement, he pulled out his gun.

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Even with the gun pointed at him, Robert did not seem to be worried. In fact, he laughed, a sound which jarred Mark. You fool, Mark. Did you really think I thought you could escape from the police by yourself? My metal detectors picked up your gun when you stepped into the room. Its over, Mark. The final words were hard and deadly. Mark had heard that tone of voice before. The lights turned on suddenly, and Mark was half-blinded. But through his wincing eyes, he could see Robert now, holding his own gun, pointing it at Mark, his hand on the trigger, and ready to shoot. Mark held the hand that was not holding his gun over his face, trying to shield his eyes from the bright light. Finally, the light dimmed, and Robert walked slowly towards Mark. Slowly, Marks eyes adjusted to the dimness, and he kept his gun trained on Robert. The two faced each other, both with guns pointing at the other, for several seconds. Dont be stupid, Mark, Robert said softly, You cant shoot me. I realize what you want to do, I know all about it. Antonio put you up to this, didnt he? Mark kept his gun up as he said, Theyll kill Aimee. Its you or her, Robert. Mark was at the end of his line, and he said the truth, spilling it out. Dont be a fool. There are other ways. Put down your gun. Mark did not. He knew there was no other way. Aimee would die, and they were probably preparing to kill her now. His actions had led to this dilemma; there was no other path. Robert was holding the gun, but now his finger was off the trigger. He was not prepared to shoot, and he was simply calling Marks bluff. Mark was not bluffing anymore. He bit his lip, and did what he never imagined he would do. He fired a perfect shot, straight, and in the middle of Roberts forehead. Mark watched Robert die in front of his eyes. Robert died with an expression of surprise and amazement on his face; for once, he had been surprised. He had not anticipated Mark to take the

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drastic step. And he would have been right at any other time, but for the events of the past few days. Mark lowered his gun, with a slightly trembling hand. He had really done it, and finally burned the bridges behind him. He turned, and picked up the cap that was still lying on the side table. It had been the only witness to his crime. He hoped that Antonio was satisfied; if not, then Mark would make sure he was satisfied in person. Living all alone, almost in a reclusive state, Robert would not be discovered for a while. It would be at least enough time for Mark to make his escape. Mark retraced his steps through the hall, then down the elevator, and out through the lobby. No one looked at him, although Mark felt like everyone should be pointing at him, decrying him as a murderer. He had been falsely accused of murder; now it was no longer a false accusation. He had spilled blood and taken a life. Mark walked out of the hotel, past all the guests, porters, and employees, none of whom knew that the great boss they all looked up to and feared was lying dead, and his empire would soon fall with him. A few blocks down the street, Mark knew that Karl would be waiting for him. Mark climbed back into the car. Karl asked him nothing, and Mark was not in the mood to tell him anything either. The drive back to the warehouse was taken in a deathly silence. Mark walked back into the warehouse, which he had left so recently, as a different man. He walked confidently, but with a serious demeanor. He did not smile as he walked in. Aimee was in the chair, still tied down, and Antonio was still standing behind her, with two other men behind him. Ah, Mark, you finished it. You killed the monster. Mark stood, with the gun in his hand, and said nothing. Then he tore the cap off his head, and hurled it at Antonio. It bounced off his chest, but Antonio ignored it. That was a very good job, as I said. You accomplished in an hour what we tried to do for years; you have done the world a great service.

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Give me back my sister. I did your deed, now untie my sister. Antonio sidestepped the issue, and instead said, You know, if you walk out this building, you would be a witness to this whole event, and I dont like witnesses. So would Aimee, for that matter. I dont care about telling anyone. I just want to rebuild my life which you just destroyed. Give me my sister. Mark was now grasping his gun tighter. Im sorry, I never take anyones word for it. Antonio had no apology in his voice. In one motion, he took out his gun, and shot Aimee in the temple. One second later, Mark brought his own gun up, and shot Antonio. It was another perfect shot, right in the forehead. Mark did not stop to admire his own shot, but instead shot twice more at the two bodyguards behind Antonio. They did not even have time to react to the sudden shootings or reach for their guns, but instead crumpled to the ground, both shot through the heart. Marks hand was not trembling as he lowered the gun. He ran towards Aimee. He ignored the bodies of the other men, but instead gathered her body up in his arms. She had been killed instantaneously with the shot through her head. She still looked perfect, as she always did, but now with a bullet in her head. Mark held her in his arms for a long time. Finally, he let her go. He had no other choice. He was pursued by the law, by the gangsters, by the friends of Robert. He walked out of the warehouse, leaving behind four dead bodies. He broke into a run, not knowing where to go. He simply ran, because that was what he always did. He ran from the death and destruction, as he had always done. But this time, this death and destruction was caused by himself. As he ran, the wind blew sharply against his face, and blew away the tears that were on his cheeks.

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