Chapter 22: Alex

As my feet carried me from the plane, across the tarmac, and to the dank parking garage where I had hastily stowed my car earlier, I found myself delayed at a crosswalk. Annoyed by the unplanned inconvenience, I waited. As I stood there, thinking about Kisa and Karimov and my father and my mother and everyone else who had ever looked down on me, anger began to overtake me. And as it did, I could feel myself becoming what they called in the training “hyperaware.” Even though I had just exited a brightly lit, almost sterilely so, building to come into the darkness, I could see everything clearly, from the bored expression on the attendant’s face to the license plates of the cars driving on the highway beyond the parking structure. Even the slightest noises were amplified until they became almost deafening. Looking at the family next to me, trying to hail a taxi, I found myself wanting to grab the little boy, who seemed to be chewing gum as loud as jackhammer, and throw him into the busy street. Ahhhh. There it was. The rage. I could feel it building up inside of me. I can kill everyone here, and they would never see it coming. That’s something Kisa will never be able to do.

“Mommy? What’s that man smiling at?” whispered the boy to his mother, all the while staring at me.

Grinning, I turned to the child and replied “Oh, nothing. Just some joke I was thinking of.”

The mother, perhaps seeing how my eyes didn’t quite seem to match my tone, pulled her son close to her and hurried to find her husband, who had finally succeeded in getting a taxi to stop.

Bitch, I thought, continuing to smile, She’ll never know how close she and her little brat were to never seeing him again.

The light finally let me cross and I hurried to my car, oblivious of those around me, only focused on the feeling of anger I was so enjoying. As I meditated on it, I began to think about the decision I had made on the plane. I needed to steal the plans. But when?

A voice in my mind began to speak. Now is the time to act. Stupid Luna has been hiding this for too long. There’s no time to keep playing games. It has to be tonight. Even as some part of my mind, struggling through the mud and the mire of my hate, began to protest at the foolishness of such a course of action, it was ignored, as I was already beginning to plan how I would steal Luna’s plans.

Tonight. Tonight. It’s got to be tonight. The words became a mantra as I drove away from the airport; over and over again in my mind I repeated them as I orchestrated the details. It was only after I pulled into my driveway that I realized that I had entered a sort of fugue state, completely unaware of my driving, focusing entirely on my scheming.

Walking into my house, I glanced at the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the nearly bare living room. Even after all my travelling, it was still only 10:30 PM. I had plenty of time. I crossed over to my television and bent down, turning the channel and volume knobs simultaneously. After each knob clicked through its combination, I opened the screen of the television smoothly on its hidden hinges and began to pull out supplies. Rope, grappling hook (just in case), standard-issue Makarov with several certainly nonstandard modifications, and finally, my treasured lock-picking set I had carried with me ever since basic training. I gathered all of this into a dark duffle bag and changed clothes so that I was completely covered in black.

I walked outside and threw the duffle bag into the front passenger seat of my car. Seated behind the wheel, I prepared myself for the assault. You can do this. You know their facility inside and out. The entrances, the weak places, the blind spots. Plus, there’s only one guard on that floor! Idiots! The guard goes on rounds at exactly 12:42 and will be away from the desk for 15 minutes. He won’t bother me. And if he does…well…I’m not getting out of there without those plans.

Sitting motionless in my driveway, I heard my clock inside the house chime midnight. Show time.

. . .

As I picked the lock of the door leading into the lobby, I cursed myself for never stealing a key for the front doors. This was taking longer than I hoped it would; they had upgraded the lock since I had last examined it. Craning my head, I could see the clock on the wall inside of the building above the empty guard desk. 12:50. Plenty of time. Still, I could feel myself breaking into a sweat, the perspiration slowly crawling down my face. Now that I was actually here, I realized that I was woefully unprepared, after all. I had no major firepower, no means of communication, and my only protection from identification was a black ski mask. But it had to be enough; there was no turning back anymore.

The lock finally clicked open and I slid into the building, closing the door silently behind me. I made my way to the office Luna and I shared, constantly looking for the sudden illumination that would herald the flashlight of the guard. But it never came. Reaching the office, I took the key from my pocket, shaking my head once again at their foolishness, and opened the door. Without turning on the lights, I quickly made my way to Luna’s desk, feeling for the drawer that I knew contained my treasure. Finding it, I quickly set to work opening it. Like before, it was laughably simple and I soon found myself handling her equations once again. Ha! Let’s see Kisa do THAT! Shutting the drawer, I found myself grinning behind the ski mask, unable to contain my joy. Certain that these were the papers I needed, I looked through the calculations anyways, double checking just as I had been trained. My inner drill sergeant satisfied, I stuffed the pages into my bag and made my way to the door, still grinning uncontrollably. Not hearing anything, I quickly walked into the hallway, hurrying to the front door. The LED clock on the wall suddenly lost a digit, changing to 1:00. Shit. The guard would be back at his desk, blocking the only way out. I needed a diversion.

Inching my way into the lobby, I could see the guard, reading some generic science fiction comic book, oblivious to everything but the Martians and their hatred for the hero of the comic book. Looking around, In noticed that a little further down the opposite hallway was a water cooler. Perfect. Pulling out my Makarov, I took careful aim, trusting that the custom-made suppressor would silence the shot enough for the guard to not turn his attention to me. Breathing slowly, I squeezed the trigger.

The water cooler exploded, sending shards of glass in all directions, spilling water onto the floor as its contents were suddenly bound only by gravity.

“What the…” The guard got up, baton drawn, and walked down the hallway. I saw this was my chance, and I smoothly crossed the open foyer behind him, hearing him mutter “Damn engineers…” as he put his nightstick back and started picking up the glass from the soggy carpet.

Past that small distraction, I forged ahead through the trees surrounding the complex until I reached the road, following it to the abandoned gas station where I had hidden my car. I once more threw the duffel bag into the passenger seat while I sat down in the driver’s seat. Checking to make sure no one had seen me, I backed into the road and drove until I was merely another anonymous car among the late-night travelers.

Alone with my thoughts at last, I turned them once again to Kisa. That little bitch will never top this! She may put on some fluffy clothes and jump around a stage, but I have saved the fatherland! I can’t wait to see her face!

And as I drove homeward, one thought in particular began to echo in my head. I win! I win! I win!