Evenfall (121 page)

There was no time to think and he wasn't lucky enough this time to have an easy escape route.
With no other choice, he dove to the side of the street, falling into an apparent drunkard sprawl at the base of some garbage bags under which he shoved his messenger bag. Grabbing an almost empty glass bottle of tequila that was lying by him, he tipped the dregs of it onto his shirt and let his eyes seemingly fall shut although he watched the street through his eyelashes. He fell back against the garbage pile, the bottle held in his loosely curled hand at his side, and left his mouth open as if he were asleep.
He was just able to even his breath when he heard the police passing by.
Conversations in Spanish echoed from the troop of police. Although it was mostly too muffled for him to understand, he knew they were talking about something serious.

Flashlights were shone down the side streets and he knew they found him when the light passed over his prone body, moved up to see his skin color, and stopped. One man broke away from the others and headed down the alley, followed after a moment by a second. The first man shone his flashlight along the ground until a beam fell directly on Boyd's eyes.

"Levαntese,
" he barked, gesturing with his shotgun for Boyd to stand.

Boyd ignored him at first. The other cop glanced at the first, paused, and then moved forward. He kicked Boyd roughly in the side. Boyd jerked as if he'd just been woken and peered at them bleary-eyed. He saw the shotgun aimed at him and the uniforms they wore, and dragged his eyebrows down in seemingly bewildered confusion.

When he didn't move, the first officer's eyes narrowed and he nudged him with the shotgun. The barrel dug into his ribs.

"Muιvase,"
he commanded.

Boyd grimaced and made a big production out of just managing to sit up straight.
"Cσmo?"
he asked blearily.

The second cop stood to the side, glancing out at the street as a few more officers strode by. Looking back at Boyd, his lip lifted when he saw the empty bottle still clutched in his hand.
"Pinche borracho,"
he spat. He jerked his head toward the street.
"Vαmonos-- esto es inϊtil."

The first cop shook his head, the shotgun still aimed steadily at Boyd as he scrutinized him.
"No huele."

Making a face, the other man just shook his head and gestured to the garbage.
"΅Chale, Javier! Ιl huele a basura y meada."
 
He paused and added with impatient derision,
"Al igual que todos los otros vagabundos de la ciudad."

"Alcohol, idiota.
"No parece que haya bebido lo suficiente como para desmayarse en un callejσn sucio
,"
Javier, the first cop, said. Boyd thought darkly that it was just his luck he managed to run into one of the few people who would be that dedicated to the job at this hour. His partner was dismissing Boyd as a drunk and a vagrant but Javier just had to notice that Boyd didn't smell enough of alcohol.

"Muιvese,"
Javier commanded again.

This time Boyd scraped the bottle against the ground as he grumbled about being woken up and stumbled to a stand, using the wall for support.

"Soy inocente,"
Boyd slurred, continuing to emphasize the impression of him being nothing more than a drunkard.
"Bebiendo. Ningϊn crimen."

The second cop gave him a disgusted look then turned to Javier.
"Tenemos mejores cosas que hacer que perder el tiempo con este cabrσn,"
he said impatiently. He gestured emphatically to the west.
"Los otros estαn a punto de hacer la redada de drogas en la casa de Juαrez.
ΏEn serio quieres perdιrtelo por este p
edazo de mierda?
"
he asked incredulously, jerking a rude gesture toward Boyd. He scowled at Javier and straightened, crossing his arms.
"
La cαrcel estα llena. Serνa un coρazo hacer el papeleo a estas horas de la noche. No vale la pena. Vαmonos.
"

Javier narrowed his eyes into a glare and didn't seem convinced. Boyd wished he would just listen to his partner and dismiss him already. He swayed on his feet to look the part of a drunkard, although it wasn't entirely feigned. He really was exhausted and he needed to get to the next house before staying up for too many hours and eating too little food caught up to him.

The muzzle of the gun pressed beneath his jaw, forcing Boyd to tilt his head back. Javier nodded toward his partner, who looked annoyed but turned his flashlight onto Boyd's face so they could see him better. Boyd squinted, the light blinding him while the familiar smell of gunpowder and metal drifted around him.

"
Ensιρeme su identificaciσn
,"
Javier ordered.

Boyd blinked at him and gave him a look as if he didn't understand.

"Identificaciσn,"
the officer said again, sounding as though he was getting angry. "
Baje la maldita botella. ΏDσnde estαn sus papeles?"

Frowning in a slow, confused manner, Boyd shook his head slowly. He didn't have proper identification to show that wouldn't alert Janus to his whereabouts immediately so he lied.
"En mi casa,"
he said finally.
"Mi novia..."

"Claro que sν,"
Javier drawled as if he'd heard it all before and didn't believe it the first time.
"
Y si llamamos no va estar
allν
"
He kept the gun aimed at him but stepped back. His chin jerked toward his partner and then at Boyd.
"Diego. Regνstr
a
lo."

"
Este es el quinto hombre que he registrado esta noche
,"
the second man, Diego, said in irritation.
"
ΏEn serio crees que el que p
uso la bomba va a estar borracho en la calle?

Javier just gave his partner a look to which Diego sighed heavily and grumbled under his breath,
"΅Quι chinga!"
, as if this was the last thing he wanted to do. He flipped the flashlight off.

Boyd blinked in the sudden darkness. Dark purple afterimage burned into his eyes and hovered everywhere he looked.

He was roughly pushed back a step, causing him to almost fall over the garbage heap. The officer yanked the bottle out of his hand, throwing it carelessly to the side. The crash of glass against the ground was loud in the night and although Boyd didn't look away from Javier, he made sure he remembered where it sounded like the bottle had landed. He could use the shards as a weapon if it came to that, but he was still hoping he could get away without a fight. If he took these officers out, he'd have the authorities looking specifically for him. Especially with his recent brush of escaping the Federales, he had no doubt half the city's law enforcement would converge on him in minutes.

Diego made a face at the stench of garbage and the dirt and sweat that clung to Boyd before he began patting him down. Boyd rocked with the movement, bracing one hand against the wall at one point as the officer, in his apparent need to get this over with as quickly as possible, pushed him around harder than was necessary.

"Nada,"
Diego said finally with a shake of his head. He stepped back with his hands up as if he didn't want to touch anything else for fear of contaminating it.

Javier raised his eyebrows, the shotgun still trained on Boyd.
"La ciudad estα bloqueada,"
he said pointedly.
 
"
Es ilegal que se haya ido sin sus credenciales
. Usted debe saber que -
todos el mundo
deberνa."
His eyes narrowed and his lips thinned.
 
"ΏQuι estαs haci
endo borracho en la calle por la noche?"
His tone turned sharper with suspicion as he jerked the gun toward Boyd. 
"Si usted tiene una casa y una novia, Ώpor quι no
estα
allν ahora mismo?"

Shaking his head as if he didn't understand, Boyd stalled.

Javier was asking too many questions-- challenging his story about an alleged girlfriend and why he wasn't home with her. He could come up with answers, of course, but it wasn't going to change anything. Javier didn't trust him and no amount of bullshit answers Boyd threw his way was going to change that. Even if Diego was convinced Boyd was a waste of their time, even though Javier himself hadn't yet fixated on the idea of Boyd being the bomber, it was only a matter of time before he decided Boyd must be due to his inability to provide any concrete evidence of who he was or what he was doing there.

Adrenaline started to tingle through his body as he realized he was probably going to have to run for it. Javier seemed like he wasn't ready to give up on this and Boyd couldn't risk being taken into the department.
His mind worked quickly.
If he dropped to the ground and swept Javier's legs from under him, even if the shotgun went off it would most likely be at an upward angle. Then he just had to steal the gun and get whichever of them was a threat first before turning to the other. If he ran fast enough and stole a car or another bike, maybe he could even get away before the other officers and the Federales were on him. He didn't have a safe house close enough to this location to protect him so he may have to break into a house and, worst case scenario, hold the people hostage until he could find a way to escape.

But if he did that, they would know it was him.

Shit,
 
he thought darkly even as he shifted his weight. It was a bad plan but he didn't have a choice.

Javier nodded his head toward Diego, who sighed in annoyance but still reached for his handcuffs. Boyd started to tense but before anything could happen, the officers' radios blared to life.

Boyd could hear shooting in the background and what sounded to be chaos with people yelling in fear and anger.

"--disparos en la casa--"

"ΏDσnde?"

"--Chilpancipango--"

"--seis sospechosos--"

"--mos con un sospechoso de un robo--"

"
΅Me importa una mierda!
Garcνa estα muerto--"

"΅Hijo de puta! ΏAhora mismo?"

"--necesitamos refuerzos cuanto antes--"

In the cacophony of voices, Boyd caught that a cop had been killed in a gunfight. He could already see several officers running down the street in the direction the two officers had initially been headed.

Diego grabbed the radio instead of the handcuffs and yelled,
"Estamos yendo."
He gave the Javier a furious look. "
Maldita sea--
΅Suιltalo, Javier!"
he snapped before he turned and ran.

The shotgun stayed aimed at Boyd for a stretched second before Javier finally relented. He gave Boyd a warning glare then turned and sprinted toward the action.

Boyd waited just long enough for them to move to the main street and out of his sight before he quickly snatched his bag from beneath the garbage and took off running into the shadows. It took quite a bit of maneuvering to get around the officers without being seen; most of them were intent on whatever was happening several streets away, but he didn't want to risk getting caught. He could hear the resounding echoes of gunfire.

It took him another hour to make it safely to the next location. He was really hoping this one wasn't compromised as well; he was about to fall over and didn't think he'd be able to risk the extra forty minutes it would probably take to get to the next place.

The apartment building on Nueva Amsterdam looked safe enough as he approached but he still checked the perimeter. He jogged up the steps, heading to the third floor. There were several apartments but he didn't hear anyone in any of them.

When he'd found the place a few months ago there had only been a few squatters living there, mostly on the first and second floor, and it didn't seem to have changed since then. He made it to the designated unit and to his relief saw that all his tests were still
intact
. He picked the lock and was cautious but quick when he entered.

The apartment was tiny; the main room had a single bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling that had barely worked when he'd been there before, a stove and sink to the side, and there was a small bathroom with the door wide open the way he'd left it. There was no running water and the only electricity came from someone who'd tapped into a neighboring building's supply.

The only furniture was a mattress lying in the corner and a heavy table that he had moved to mostly block the front door before he'd left. It barely gave him enough space to slide into the room, but it also meant that once he shut and deadbolt locked the door behind him, it required little effort and virtually no noise to move the table flush against the door as further precaution.

That left his only escape through the window in case of an emergency. Unfortunately that involved a three story drop to cement.

At the moment, though, he didn't care; he would plan an escape when it came. What he really needed was sleep.
The curtains were heavy and closed so he couldn't be seen as he wearily walked across the room and dropped heavily onto the mattress. It was lumpy and musty but after days of adrenaline highs, running around constantly being on the alert, and not being able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, it was enough to make him fall asleep within minutes.

Even asleep he was on high alert and even the slightest of sounds continually woke him. He'd just managed to find some manner of sleep when a rattle at the window made his eyes shoot open and heart jolt. He threw himself out of bed, his mind racing with how to get out of there, where to go next, and what was happening. He peered around the edges of the curtain on the windows until he could verify that it had only been a gust of wind that shook the pane.

It was lighter outside, the dawning of the eleventh day since the attack at JKS and three days until the meeting with Sin. He sighed, rubbing his burning eyes, and returned to the mattress. He sat there a moment, his legs drawn up loosely in front of him while he rested his arms on his knees, and stared blankly into space.

He was exhausted.
He hadn't slept or eaten properly for almost two weeks. It shouldn't have been so tiring but he felt like he hadn't had a chance to relax since before he'd left the studio the last time, before he'd had to check in at the hotel as Kadin Reed. After months of relatively low stress, this constant hyper-awareness, the adrenaline that kicked in each time something happened, as well as the constant running and stopping was all wearying.

And the worst part was it hadn't needed to happen this way.

Boyd's gaze slid over to his messenger bag, abandoned at the edge of the mattress where he'd blindly dropped it earlier. After a moment, he leaned forward and pulled the bag closer. Everything inside would seem fairly innocuous to a casual search but there were still some essential items he needed to protect.

He pulled out his cell phone and stared at it a moment before he sighed and flopped back on the mattress. He held the phone in front of his eyes before his gaze dropped to the wristwatch that doubled as a GPS monitor.

All the running around made him wonder how Sin was doing.

The first few days, he'd been angry for a number of reasons and although the feeling hadn't left entirely, the intensity of it had faded.

He was angry that they'd spent so many months preparing for something that hadn't been what they'd expected.
Thierry had lied or the information was bad. Everything they had gone through for that information, the months of Jeffrey decrypting it, the discord between he and Sin, his valentine status, his mother's disgust, Alexis' death, his hopelessness-- at least it had all had some purpose as long as they were able to fulfill their mission. As long as they could take out a large part of Janus' organization.

But they hadn't. It turned out Thierry had lied more than to get Boyd in his bed and now everything was fucked up.
Even if they'd had to go forward with the bombs to salvage the mission somehow, Boyd couldn't help feeling affected by knowing that people he'd been in the company of for three days were all dead now. People he'd had conversations with and had played games with and had talked to for hours...It was a little disturbing.
Although he knew he and Sin were doing their job, just as the messengers were doing theirs, and even a small delay in adding to Janus' power was helpful in the short run, there was still a sense of uneasiness that lingered within him.

And then there was Jessica.
Much of his ire centered around her and Sin. She always had to show up at inconvenient times and get in the way. She always had to distract Sin. They'd already had too many problems with the mission but at least after they'd proceeded with the plan, they could have hidden together. All of these days of little-to-no sleep wouldn't have existed; they could have taken turns on lookout if it was necessary and could have watched each other's back.

But Sin had felt it necessary to stop for Jessica and put everything off track.
Law enforcement had been closing in and it would have cut it too close for Boyd to return undetected by the time Sin found that idiot woman. To make it worse, she probably would have been fine. Emergency responders were on the way. And if she was too stupid to run to an exit in the middle of an attack then maybe survival of the fittest should have come into play anyway.

Everyone else had to die; why did Jessica get to be the exception to the rule? Why was she so important to compromise everything? What if Boyd had gotten killed trying to return so they could unnecessarily save that woman-- would that have been an acceptable loss for Sin so he could have his precious boss back?

Resentment flooded him, making his hand tighten on his phone.

He wondered if while he was running around, filthy and exhausted, Sin was staying with Jessica and using her as a cover. Sin could leisurely stay there for two weeks while they fucked as much as they wanted and all the research Boyd had done on where to hide in Monterrey and all the time he took to explain it to Sin would be for nothing. Just like all the work with Thierry ended up being for nothing.
And now, because of that one woman's presence, they lost contact with each other. It was aggravating.
They'd agreed upon radio silence during that time period to minimize the chance of being caught. With little access to places for recharging batteries, he'd been alternating having his phone off and on and hadn't bothered checking the GPS function on the watch. It was time to turn his phone on again so he did so, feeling it vibrate in his hand to signal it was on.