Nick Stephenson - Panic

Leopold opened the fridge and pulled out some cartons of leftover takeout from earlier in the week, stuffing them into the microwave in their containers. A few minutes later, the smell of Chinese food filled the room as Leopold emptied the contents of the cartons onto plates and laid them on the table.

The others soon came through, following the smell of food that had quickly filled the apartment. Albert was licking his lips. They sat at the large dining table overlooking Central Park and ate dinner just as the sun disappeared over the horizon. The city was a buzzing mass of floating lights, and the four of them ate hungrily without speaking, polishing off the meal in a little over five minutes. When they had all finished, Albert sat back in his chair and sighed contentedly.

“I needed that,” said Albert, both hands resting on his stomach.

“Thanks, Leopold,” said Mary.

“Good thinking,” said Jerome. “We need to keep our energy up. No good getting dizzy in a fire fight.”

Albert looked worried for a moment. Then a look of quiet contentment passed over his face and his eyes began to quiver. “Anything for dessert?” he asked, slurring his words slightly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mary asked, turning to Leopold.

“Don’t worry. Just a little mild sedative I slipped into his food. It’s more effective when injected, but it seems to have done the trick.”

“What did you do that for?” asked Mary, sounding concerned.

“Like you said before, Albert’s a civilian. He doesn’t know what he’s letting himself in for, no matter how eager he is to help. He’ll wind up getting himself killed. It’s a miracle he’s still alive as it is; I’m not taking him along on this trip.”

Albert tried to sit up, as though he couldn’t hear what was being said. He gave up after a couple of unsuccessful attempts and resigned himself to the slumped position he had assumed in the chair. He put his hands back on his belly and slowly closed his eyes, breathing slowly and deeply. Then he burped and fell asleep.

“We’ll put him in one of the guest bedrooms where he won’t get into any trouble,” said Leopold.

“So it’s just the three of us against Stark’s private army,” said Mary. “Although I suppose that’s more effective than the three of us plus Albert.”

“What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in enthusiasm,” said Jerome.

Mary cracked a smile. Leopold put his hand on her shoulder and felt her body move toward him slightly. She turned to look at him.

He looked into her eyes. “You need to be sure about this one, Mary. I don’t want you there if you’re in any doubt.”

“Why would I be in any doubt?” she asked, blinking.

“You’re NYPD. You’ve got due process and rules to follow. Chances are you’ll get fired after this. Or worse.”

“The way I figure it,” she said, twisting herself away from him, “is that Christina’s life is more important than my career, so I’ll worry about the consequences later. No way I’m sitting this one out after everything I’ve been through today.”

Leopold dropped his hand from her shoulder and nodded silently. The discussion was over.

“We’ve finished in the stores,” said Jerome, breaking the silence. “I picked out a few items we can probably use. Of course, it would help to know the plan first.”

Leopold stood up and walked over to the freezer. “Sure. I’ll explain over ice cream.”

“That’s your plan?” said Mary, glaring at Leopold as she spoke. “Are you crazy?”

Leopold, Mary, and Jerome were still clustered around the dining table, hand-drawn diagrams and maps covering the surface. It was nearly ten at night and tempers were beginning to fray.

“I don’t see an alternative,” said Jerome.

“Well of course you wouldn’t, butler-boy,” said Mary, pointing a finger at the startled bodyguard.

Jerome’s expression darkened, and Leopold thought for a moment she might apologize. He was wrong.

“And don’t give me that look,” she continued. “I’m just trying to tell you where all the holes in your damn plan are. They’re big enough to fall through.”

Leopold sighed and tried to break the tension. “I know it’s crazy, but it’s the only plan we could even feasibly pull off in the time we’ve got. If we don’t get Christina back by tomorrow, we’ll lose her forever. We still have the element of surprise on our side; they won’t expect an attack tonight from just three of us.”

“Of course they won’t,” snapped Mary, “because that would be bat-shit crazy! How the hell do we storm a heavily fortified safe house, filled with armored super-soldiers, in the dark, with just the three of us? Don’t you know anyone useful, with all your connections? We need backup.”

Mary slapped both palms down onto the table as she finished speaking. Leopold jumped slightly.

“I’m afraid my professional network doesn’t extend to hired mercenaries,” replied Leopold, folding his arms. “Besides, we don’t have the time to get a team together. Certainly not a team we can trust, at any rate. We’re better off keeping this between us.”

“It will work if we follow the plan to the letter,” said Jerome, tapping the table with his index finger. “If we want to get Christina alive, it’s our only chance. The only other viable option is to wait for a warrant, which will take too long. Do you have any better ideas?”

Mary didn’t reply. She exhaled slowly and sat down, fingers locked in a pyramid, eyes closed. After a moment she opened her eyes and spoke. Her voice was calm again.

“What I don’t understand, Leopold,” she continued, “is what we’re going to do if Stark has any more bleeding-edge weapons technology that we don’t know about. It’s bad enough going up against someone with a closet full of tiny bombs, without having to worry about running into some kind of space-age laser gun or something.”

Leopold frowned. “It’s unlikely he has access to anything else. The kind of technology required to get that much explosive power into something no bigger than a quarter takes some serious investment. Stark’s a resourceful guy, but I doubt he’s got access to that kind of money. I think he was given the micro-explosives to use for a very specific purpose.”

“So, you’re thinking he’s not the one signing the paychecks?” said Jerome.

“I don’t know,” said Leopold. “All I can tell for sure is that his operation doesn’t have anywhere near the resources needed to steal secret weapons technology from a secure military facility. Whatever he’s got planned, it’s going to be big.”

Mary took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Why don’t you run your plan by me one more time?”

Leopold repeated his strategy and Mary listened. She and Jerome made a few suggestions, and Leopold amended some of the hand-drawn diagrams with busy scribbles as they spoke. After a few minutes they were all in agreement. This was never going to work.

But they were going to try anyway.

The leafy Park Slopes suburb, nestled in an exclusive corner of Brooklyn, was a refuge for the rich and famous. The streets were immaculate and lined on either side with row after row of tall houses, set back from the sidewalk. Senator Logan’s four-story townhouse was nestled in the center of the street, unremarkable from the outside and wedged between two identical-looking buildings. The house had a heavy wooden door at the top of a short flight of stone steps and huge windows blacked out with thick curtains. Were it not for the knowledge of what was inside, Leopold would not normally have given it a second glance. It was the perfect camouflage.