Richard Doetsch - Half-Past Dawn

And Suresh remembered that the attack in the alleyway was not a random mugging, that they were there to kill him. But his heart had blinded him to the obvious truth. Self loathing rose; he was angry at himself for letting them live, thinking them to be nothing more than lost souls looking to steal a few dollars.

But it was at Raj and Nadia that his rage burned brightest.

“Raj Sapre, along with his girlfriend, tried to kill you themselves. As sad as this may sound, you’re lucky they set you on fire. It set off the smoke alarms, and the tenants came running to your aid.”

Hearing that Nadia did not love him, did not want to be with him, that she wanted him dead, filled him with emotions he couldn’t describe.

“Raj’s father is the prime minister of India.”

Suresh’s mind turned upside down at the revelation.

“You should know he sanctioned your death. An all-points bulletin has been issued for your arrest for the attempted murder of his son. It is why you are registered under an alias, Cristos. If you’re arrested, I can promise that you won’t live until trial. The PM is operating for himself. He was elected through voter fraud. He has made the country’s accounts his piggy bank and is willing to put this country into war with its neighbors if he can see a profit in it.

Suresh looked at the two men. While Riley did all of the talking, it was the taller man, the silent one, whose presence loomed larger. Despite his efforts to remain a nonentity in the room, it was clear that he was in charge,.

“Who are you?” Suresh said to the silent man.

The men exchanged a quick glance before Riley answered. “We are representatives sent here to assess you, to evaluate your worthiness.”

Suresh felt an icy chill run through his scorched body.

“We know where you’re from, we know of your unconventional training, your skills with weapons. We know how easily you wove yourself into the fabric of this community, losing yourself, living outside the system.” Riley paused. “And we know the hatred that burns in your veins.”

“We would like to make a proposition.” The silent man finally spoke with a deep American accent.

“What kind of proposition?”

“One that will serve us both. A proposition of vengeance.”

Cristos sat next to Jack in the back of the Suburban, Aaron and Donal in the front seat, a man named Josh in the rear third seat. All were silent in deference to Cristos as they drove toward the city.

“So how did you know?” Cristos asked.

“How did I know what?” Jack said.

“That I was alive. You try to act so surprised, yet you taunted me with that note.”

Jack shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“The note that was inside the case we stole from you.” Cristos reached inside his pocket, pulled out the letter, and handed it to Jack. “Is that your signature?”

Jack stared at the envelope and quickly pulled out the letter. Just when he had started to think his memory was intact, this letter said otherwise.

“Who told you?” Cristos pressed him. “Or did you figure it out?”

Jack was speechless, his confusion impeding him from even hearing Cristos. Until he had received the call, he had no idea Cristos was alive. Nothing could have ever allowed him to surmise such an impossibility. He had no memory of writing it. He had no memory of placing it in the box.

Yet here he was, staring at his own handwriting, his own signature.

The envelope had Cristos’s name on it. The personal stationery was Jack’s, given to him by Joy for his birthday. The message was written in blue ink, with thick, heavy strokes. I killed you once… touch my family and I will kill you again. Jack Keeler

“Not really .Words becoming of a district attorney.” Cristos took the letter from Jack, tucked it back into the envelope, and gave it back to him. “You go ahead and keep it, contemplate it later.”

Jack looked out the window of the Suburban, seeing that they were heading down the FDR, nearing their destination.

“So, Jack, before you kill me, you’re going to help me.”

Jack could hardly focus. Against all logic, it was as if he had written a letter to a ghost. His attention was pulled back as Cristos nudged him.

“You really don’t have a choice, Jack,” Cristos said as he held out his cell phone.

“You expect me to help you break in?” Jack finally said, trying to put aside the fragility of his mind.

“Oh, I expect you to do so much more than that. You’re not only going to lead us down there, but you are going to steal the box from under the noses of the agents who are protecting that room.” Cristos paused. “And Jack, you know, if you don’t, your wife’s death will be your fault.”

Jack took the phone from Cristos, flipped it open, and quickly dialed. The phone hadn’t made it through half a ring when-

“Evidence,” Charlie Brooks answered.

“Charlie?” Jack asked in surprise.

“Holy shit,” Charlie said, immediately recognizing his friend’s voice.

“Don’t say a word,” Jack said quickly.

“I wouldn’t know what to say. Oh, my God.”

“Charlie, who’s down there with you?”

“And your wife?”

“She’s alive, but you can’t react. No one is to know what’s going on.”

“You know the feds are down here looking at everything.”

“I know. How many people you got down there now?”

“Three feds and an accountant. Seems I’m not the only one with nothing to do on a Friday night. Does Frank know?”

“Yeah.”

“That son of a bitch, He let me go on and on. I’m going to kick his little fireplug ass-”

“Charlie.” Jack cut him off. “Remember the case Mia and I dropped off the other day?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, especially every time the feds ask about it.”

“You’re a good man. Smart. Don’t let them tell you any different.”

“Good thing you said not to log it in.”

“Well, that box you have no idea about? I’m coming to get it.”

Cristos studied the hand-drawn map that Jack had sketched out of the lower level of the Tombs, looking at the bottleneck entrance to the evidence room, the small administrative office, and the oversized warehouse-like space where tens of thousands of evidence cases, boxes, and bags lay in wait to be shepherded through the judicial system.

“I will get you the box, but you don’t harm anyone, do you understand?”

“You don’t really think you’re in charge here, do you?” Cristos said. “We’re all going downstairs except Josh here.” Cristos pointed to the third man, his brown hair slicked back, his jacket a size too large. “He’ll watch the guard and the lobby and keep us posted.”

“Those people downstairs have nothing to do with this.”

“Then their lives are in your hands. You get us the box without incident, no one dies. But if you try to warn anyone or take control, their deaths will be on your conscience.”

As Jack sat there in the limo, he did everything he could to stay focused, to keep his mind off of Mia, as any fear he felt for her would only distract him from the task at hand. He had to get that case but had to stay alive in the process if he was to have any chance of saving her. He finally turned back to Cristos and asked the question that had been burning in his mind since he first heard his voice.

“How did you survive? I watched you die.”

“Yes, you did,” Cristos said. “But do you remember what I said? Death is not always final, not always permanent. Death is never the end.”

“You’re trying to tell me you came back from the dead?”