Fiction
When The Program Fails People Die Part XI
A Sunny Alexander-Johnson And Henry James Series
My name is Sunny Alexander-Johnson, and I’m Henry James, and we’re writers for Dark Sides of the Truth magazine.
Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X
None of us standing in the viewing room thought he’d do it, but Manny surprised us all by walking back into the interrogation room and slapping Anthony’s phone down on the table in front of the man.
“Make the call Anthony.”
The bruised and battered man stared at the phone for several seconds, then back up at Manny.
“And tell ’em what?”
“The truth. That we managed to spot you tailing us, got off the highway, and you lost us.”
“Well, that ain’t exactly the truth now, is it mister?”
“It is now. You either make the call, and we let you and the Bobbsey twins plea to lessors, or you and your buddies are going away for a long time. Your choice.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Manny picked up the phone and turned away, “suit yourself, Anthony. Maybe I’ll still be alive to see you when you finally get out.”
“Wait, wait a minute, mister. Okay, I’ll make the damn call. What’s the deal?”
“We’ll drop everything except parole violation and offer you a non adjudicated plea with an extension of your parole for another five years. You guys keep your shit together during your parole time, and you’re done. You screw up once, just once, and we’ll bury your asses.”
Manny slid Anthony’s phone closer to the man then sat down as Anthony picked up his phone with both hands, thumb scrolled to a number and tapped the screen.
“Put it on speaker.”
Anthony did as instructed, and the phone rang four times before someone answered.
“Is it done?”
The voice had a low gravelly tone, a synthetically produced sound which neither sounded like a man nor a woman, more closer to the growling of a large feral cat that had suddenly mastered command of intelligible language.
“Uh, no. They must have made us. They got off the highway around Mechanicsburg, and we lost ‘em.”
There was no immediate reply from the mystery voice. Then came a vicious one-word reply which split the air between Manny and Anthony with venomous malcontent.
“Idiot.”
“Look, we…”
“Shut up you fool. You didn’t keep your end of the bargain. Don’t expect me to keep mine. In fact, you three better start looking over your shoulders. They’ll never find the last person who failed me.”
“We can keep looking for them. They can’t have gone very far.”
“No. This is the last time we’ll ever talk. Do not ever call me again. I suppose I will have to take care of this situation myself as I can’t trust a pack of imbecilic morons to do the job.”
The telephone connection ended abruptly as we all expected it would. As Anthony eased his manacled hands to the table, Manny stretched across and snatched the phone from his hands.
“Hey, mister, what the hell?”
“I’m going to take this as a little, let say, souvenir, of our time together, Anthony. Each time I look at it, I’ll always remember Roberto beating the shit out of your ass. What a memory that is.”
“Mister, that’s my personal property. You can’t take that.”
“Really, Anthony? Let’s consider it a gift you gave me for keeping your ass out of jail. How about that?”
Manny didn’t give the man a chance to respond as he spun on his heels and left the room. When he stepped into the viewing area with us, he stopped and gazed at us for a moment, then pocketed Anthony’s phone.
“Okay, now what, Roberto? And for the record, this shit better not go south.”
“Or you’ll do what Hermanos? Kick his ass? Look at the dude sitting in there. His face looks like he stuck his head in a shredder.”
“What the hell ever, James. Like I said, Roberto, now what?”
“We get back as soon as we can, set up surveillance, and wait.”
“Wait? Wait for somebody to take a pot shot at my wife, or one of us? That’s your damned plan?”
“Seems like a reasonable plan to me. Robert, what do you think?”
“Works for me.”
Manny stared at each of us in turn, then slowly shook his head, turned around, and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.
“Was it something we said?”
“Probably something you said, Henry, but let’s not stand on ceremony. Let’s just get outta here. I’m sure my wife’s going to want to know what the hell is going on.”
“I’m surprised Sunny hasn’t been ringing your phone off the hook.”
“She has. I’ve been sending her to voice mail.”
“Oh shit, so have I.”
“Well, I may not have known her as long as you two have, but I kinda have the feeling both of you are in a lot of trouble right about now.”
By the time we reached Austin city limits and following two vitriolic and specifically targeted tirades from Sunny Alexander-Johnson aimed at her husband and then her partner, we rolled up to the security gate at Cynthia Alexander’s mansion.
After depressing the call button, we sat with the car running waiting for the gates to swing open. It seemed like it was taking a bit too long, so the call button got depressed again.
“Yes, may I help you?”
“Sunny, it’s Henry and the guys. You wanna open the gate?”
We heard Cynthia’s voice in the background.
“Who is it, dear?”
“Nobody really, mother. Just my ex-partner and soon to be dead husband and father of a pair of unborn twins.”
“Oh wow, she’s really pissed. Maybe you and Robert should consider sleeping in the car tonight.”
“Bite my ass Hermano. Come on, Shaundrika, let us in.”
“What are the magic words?”
“Pretty please?”
“I was thinking — I’m an asshole for not keeping me in the loop — but that will have to do. Park in the garage, close the door and wait for Donnie to come and get you.”
As the gates swung open and we eased through, it seemed to all of us as if the mood had suddenly shifted.
Hours ago, we were searching for whoever had targeted Victoria and it seemed as though we had the upper hand. Now it felt as though we’d all just become the targets and had little control over what was about to happen.
Read On — When The Program Fails People Die Part XII
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