Rotted Roots — Part 10: The Calm Before
The sirens had begun to abate, but the smoke column still rose like a skyscraper into the morning air. Sunlight tried to poke through the dark shroud being cast over the city. The citizens below would have to settle for only blue skies. The streets were empty. Cars remained where they had been left. People huddled around televisions close to those they loved, waiting for news on survivors of the madness from the night before.
It could have happened anywhere. Instead, it happened here.
The two men had chased the sedan carrying Way for half an hour to no avail. It was gone the minute they lost sight of it. After that they went back to the ruins of the stadium to help the paramedics as much as they could. Ryder was still washing away the blood from the dead trapped underneath his fingernails. It was the third globule of soap he had squirted. His nails were still tinged maroon. Ryder dried his hands and left the bathroom.
The radio was tuned to a news outlet reporting on the bombing. Servaes continued to talk on his cell phone as he paced along Ryder’s floor. He was yelling something at someone. Ryder’s ears still rang from the detonations. He mashed his fingers into them to try and abate the din. The radio came in a little clearer after he removed them.
“Well get whoever you can down here,” Servaes said decisively. “We need everyone going through that wreckage to find something.” He grunted twice as he listened to whoever was on the other end. “Fine. Just get it done.” He hung up. Ryder went to the freezer and produced a frozen bottle of vodka. He handed it to Servaes.
“Put that on your face. It’ll help with the swelling.”
Servaes eyed the bottle as he took it. “You don’t have, like, a bag of peas or something?”
Ryder went back to the small kitchenette. He produced two plastic cups and an unopened bottle of whiskey. He joined Servaes, gingerly placing the icy bottle against his bruised face, on the sofa and poured them each a handful of the amber fluid.
“McKenna thirty year?” asked Servaes. Ryder grunted. “Surprised you haven’t touched this stuff yet.”
“Got it for a special occasion. Didn’t feel like drinking it.”
Servaes swilled the alcohol in his cup. “I’ve read your file. Replacing one addiction with another — “
“Am I going to have to take the booze from you, Agent?”
Servaes drank the liquid down. Ryder followed suit and poured more of the expensive whiskey for them to drink.
“Anything?” asked Ryder.
“Nothing yet. The car hasn’t come up. Way is in the wind. The rubble is still being cleared away from the site of the explosions. I have people interviewing witnesses who were close to where the bombs went off. Most don’t remember anything useful.”
“More than likely the bombs were planted earlier in the day. Minimum security, less witnesses.”
Servaes nodded. They continued to drink and think. The radio kept the silence from pressing in.
“Again, if you’re just waking up, our top story is the massive bombing that took place last night at Russell Stadium during the highly anticipated matchup between the Desert Knights and the Swashbucklers. At least thirty-seven are confirmed dead with over a hundred injured. Stay with us at Ninety-Five Point Nine as we monitor the latest updates from the scene.”
“I hate Chinatown endings,” said Servaes as he finished his second glass.
“You hate what?”
“You ever see the movie Chinatown?”
“With Jack Nicholson? Yeah, I’ve seen it.”
“I hate endings like that. Where there is no winning. Where the only victory is you getting out alive.” He placed the cup on the plastic folding table in front of them. “I’m not going to let it happen here. Agent Saturday was a good man. He deserves better.”
“And he’ll get it. We’re close to the end. I can feel it.”
“Wait, we have an update,” said the newscaster. Ryder turned his ear towards the radio. “This just in…two more bombs were just discovered in a parking garage adjacent to the stadium. They appear to have failed in their detonation. Again, there is no threat from these bombs going off.”
Ryder turned to Servaes. “We didn’t find them,” the agent said. Ryder stood up and walked over to the radio. He turned up the volume.
“We’re also getting word that the bombs were reverse-engineered…from technology that has been backtracked to…Ryder Industries?”
Ryder felt a jolt run from his stomach to below his earlobes. Servaes was already back on the phone. Ryder walked to his desk slowly and sat down, looking out the windows at the towering smoke in the distance.
“We’re getting confirmation now. Ryder Industries was the source of the technology that was engineered into the bombs. No word yet on whether Ethan and Sarah Ryder, the C.E.O.s of the company, will directly speak to this, but the company has already released a statement distancing themselves from this terrible tragedy.”
Ryder ran his hands along his face. They smelled antiseptic and were smooth from the searing water in his bathroom. It didn’t make sense. Ethan and Sarah were always careful in their criminality. Nothing they had done had ever been directly linked back to them. At worst, it was tied off to a “disenfranchised ex-employee” or “kook with a computer.” To be so blatantly attached to something wasn’t their modus operandi.
“Even as we speak, the market is showing that something has to be done at Ryder Industries. Stock prices for the company are in free fall, causing a shockwave to hit the market. We may not have seen the worst of this yet, folks. Stay with us.”
Their words returned to Ryder. “We have more pressing concerns than your questions, Max.” Ryder closed his eyes and thought. There was a thread through all of this. An invisible spider’s web that was caught on his face. Way. The bombs. Ryder Industries. Ethan and Sarah. Saturday. Servaes.
The car. The symbol. He knew now where he had seen it.
It clicked.
“Wait here,” Ryder said as he pulled on his dirtied blazer. There was no time to change.
“Where are you going?” asked Servaes as he hung up the phone.
“There’s something I have to do. Keep trying to find Way. There is something more going on. And I think I know what it is.” Before Servaes could ask, Ryder was out the door. His feet thundered down the stairs. Only the radio kept Servaes company now. His phone buzzed a few minutes later.
“Servaes.”
“It’s Agent Ellis, sir.”
“What is it?”
“We found your man.”
Servaes felt the same shock Ryder did a few minutes previously. “Way?”
“Picked him up on a security feed a few minutes ago.”
“Where?”
“The lobby of Ryder Industries. And he’s not alone.”
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK…
Part 2: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-2-a-meeting-is-set-1c879ad163ee#.m5ejkesx1
Part 3: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-3-contact-is-lost-3a684d5ce7c9#.ooxxuts1f
Part 5: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-5-blood-and-bruises-6c28eb9dd94b
Part 6: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-6-family-reunions-f029c00e8b66
Part 7: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-7-the-fallout-from-addictions-473b4ecefefb
Part 8: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-8-jump-ball-ac5af15e8915
Part 9: https://medium.com/the-assortment/rotted-roots-part-9-where-theres-a-will-427d6a8d07fe
