Morris / The Dangerous Jade Pt. 01

It took twenty terrifying minutes for Uncle Harry to come home.

I heard the door open, footsteps come down the hall, stop, and then a gun cock. "Liz?"

"In here, Harry."

Uncle Harry walked into the room. He had a Glock.

"Who's bag's that in... What the fuck?! Morris?!"

"Hi Uncle Harry."

"What the fuck you doing here?! Liz?! What the fuck's going on?!"

"So he's your nephew then?"

"Yeah, my brother's son."

"He showed up at the door. I thought he was a boy scout." Liz tucked her gun away. "When he said he was looking for you, I did what you taught me."

"You did good. I just didn't think you'd do it with my nephew."

"Uh, Uncle Harry?"

"What?"

"Can I get dressed now?"

"Oh. Right, get dressed kid."

"Oh darn, I like him the way he is. He looks cute."

"Shut up Liz," Uncle Harry said.

I put my clothes on quietly. I wasn't feeling good at the moment. I wanted to puke.

"So Morris. What are you doing here? And don't puke. I know that look."

"I got into trouble. Dad sent me here. He had your address."

"My address? Arch's not supposed to have my address. And I told him to send Pap's will, not you... wait. What kind of trouble?" Uncle Harry looked concerned, not about me though.

"Stepbi... I mean Fanny got me into doing something stupid. It got plastered all over the internet. Dad got pissed, Mom didn't want me, so he sent me here."

"So Arch sent me his mess. What the fuck's he thinking? I can't take care of a kid."

"I'm eighteen. I can take care of myself. I just need a roof over my head."

Uncle Harry was pensive. "This is not the place for you kid. We're not the parenting types."

"Great, so can you give me some money for a motel room?"

Uncle Harry rubbed his chin, then nursed his forehead.

"Fuck! Look, I'll let you stay but there are some rules."

"Harry!" Liz crooked her finger.

I couldn't hear Harry and Liz's conversation but Liz definitely wasn't happy with my presence.

There was a lot of buzzing, waving arms, and angry glances at me, from both of them.

Liz finished with an angry scowl, and stormed out of the living room, into the kitchen. There were a lot of pots and pans banging, and lots of cursing, in English and "Russian" (Ukrainian actually, I found out later).

Uncle Harry blew an exasperated sigh, then jerked his head. "Follow me kid."

He took me upstairs to a small room on the roof. A dormer window opened to a view of the neighborhood. The ceiling sloped, and there was only a folding bed and small dresser.

"I'll get you some sheets and blankets. Liz is making dinner. I'll give you the rules right now, and later if you forget."

Rule #1: Do everything Uncle Harry tells you, without question.

Rule #2: Do not let anyone in the house, ever.

Rule #3: Do not go into the basement, ever.

"The basement is Liz's workshop. She's very sensitive about her work, and very protective. So the basement's off limits... and keep your distance from Liz too. Don't ask questions."

"Don't worry about that." Liz didn't give off the same vibe as Stepbitch, but she'd forced me to strip and held a gun on me. Not a good experience while last weekend was still raw.

Uncle Harry left me to unpack and make up the bed. Being alone allowed me to think about what I'd seen. Liz held a gun on me. Uncle Harry had a gun. Liz had a workshop in the basement. No one is allowed in the house. What did I just walk into? Who is Uncle Harry, and why did Liz call him Harry Coal?

****

Dinner was borscht. I'd never had borscht. That's when I found Liz was Ukrainian. It tasted... good actually. I had two servings. Liz seemed pleased. Uncle Harry seemed to like the soup.

"So Morris," Liz asked. "What trouble did you do to get you exiled?"

"I... uh... I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, you're going to talk about it. I want to know why my idiot brother stuck me with you."

Uncle Harry was pretty firm. I knew, on some level, I'd caused a serious disruption to something important. If I'd known then what I know now.

Anyway, it came out. Uncle Harry and Liz actually laughed, not chuckled, laughed loud when I got to the part about Stepbitch's unexpected prowess.

"So, she beat you at Call of Duty? I've not heard a story that rich in years." Uncle Harry wiped laugh tears from his eyes.

Then I came to the part about the spa ("Ouch!" Uncle Harry sympathized).

"'Splains your bald pubes," Liz chuckled.

When I came around to the naked catering, Uncle Harry left the table. A couple of minutes later he came back with a laptop. He turned it on and tapped a few keys.

"Well, looks like you're still trending."

"Can I see?" asked Liz.

"Here you go."

I watched, red as the borscht, Uncle Harry and Liz, grin and chuckle at my nudie show.

Liz looked up and saw my red face. "Good grief, Morris. Stop blushing. You've got nothing to be embarrassed about."

I thought she was joking but she continued. "I certainly liked what I saw."

That made me turn even redder, but it was a different kind of embarrassment. I think it's the difference between people laughing at you, and complimenting you. It's just I never thought I had anything on me to be complimentary.

People said I was cute, or some did. I remember a friend of Stepmom's, some artist type, can't remember his name, who said he'd like to paint me. This was a year before now.

He said I looked as if someone had taken, "An idealized Norman Rockwell kid, mixed in some Walt Disney's Peter Pan, put in touches of Archie Andrews and Opie Taylor, and finally added a dash of modern nerd."

He also said I had a lithesome body. I asked him what he meant. He said, "You have one of those skinny bodies, but not of the gawky, bony kind. Your body's supple, like a dancer. Not some pumped up body builder. And your pug nose and freckles make you unique. I'd even consider you as a model, just not the Abercrombie and Fitch type. I think you might have potential for the catwalk as a male model. You might want to consider it."

I flashed back to that moment, watching Uncle Harry and Liz watch me on the laptop. I remembered how warm I felt listening to him. I was feeling warm like that now. It wasn't a bad feeling.

I did notice Uncle Harry was no longer chuckling. He was watching the party with closer interest. He was watching me with closer interest. I wondered what that was about. Looking back, I know he was more interested in how I moved.

I had to do some dodging at the party. A few of Stepbitch's friends, male and female, were a little grabby. I had to bob and weave sometimes. Uncle Harry was studying my movements.

"Well Red, I don't think you have to worry about this crap being up for long. Arch's probably having his tech guys scrub as much as they can find."

"It's the web Uncle Harry. It's there forever."

"There's nothing to be done, Red. You'll have to own it."

I knew he was right. There was no help for it. Didn't make it better though. I decided to change the subject.

"Uncle Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"Why the guns? Are you two... um... drug dealers?"

There had to be a reason for Liz's weird behavior, and Uncle Harry's rules, and with Liz's accent, I was thinking Russian Mafia.

"No," Uncle Harry chuckled, "No it's not like that. Liz here (Liz was chuckling too) is sort of an artist, and she's working on a masterpiece. A lot of dealers would like to get their hands on it. I'm sort of her bodyguard. Which is weird, because I don't really do this kind of thing."

I didn't know what Uncle Harry meant by that but I didn't ask. "I guess it's a really big project then."

"The biggest," Liz smiled, and she looked at Uncle Harry, "and I'm almost done."

"How much is almost done?" Uncle Harry asked.

"I'm close. Very close."

I knew Liz's project probably had nothing to do with art, but I wasn't going there. I did have a final question.

"Why did Liz say your last name is Coal?"

"It's my professional name. It's your maternal great-grandmother's maiden name. I like it better than, well, Micklewhite."

"Got a point," I smiled.

"Well Red, dinner's done. Help Liz with the dishes, and after that, you have free run of the house, except the basement. I have some errands to run tonight. You going to be okay?"

"We'll be fine. I'll be in the basement. Red has the window."

I didn't really know what they meant but the questions were done for now. One thought came to me as I helped Liz. Uncle Harry and Liz called me Red rather than kid or Morris. It was kind of annoying, taking a nickname from Stepbitch, but it was better than Morris.

The days leading up to the Big Fuck were kinda dull. There wasn't much to do in the house, or the neighborhood.

Most of the houses were empty. The neighbors were either too old or too occupied to be interested.

Uncle Harry explained the neighborhood got slammed hard by the housing market collapse and never recovered. Key West keeps the lawns cut and an occasional police patrol, but that's that.

I guess that's why Uncle Harry and Liz picked the house; no snoops. He kept a close eye on a couple of houses though.

Now, I'm not one of those kids who lie around all day playing Call of Duty. I might have gotten enough practice to beat Stepbitch if I had. I like to do things, so I kept busy with exercise, cleaning around the house, and taking care of the lawn.

Uncle Harry and Liz left me alone mostly. Uncle disappeared most nights, while Liz stayed down in the basement, with the door locked.

Eventually, I got caught up with everything, and found myself with nothing to do and too much time to do it. Running wasn't helping. Besides, it was summer in Key West, and running in the humidity was getting old.

Liz came up with a suggestion when I complained about the humidity.

"Go swimming instead of jogging. We're only two minutes walk from the beach."

"I don't have swim trunks."

"So?" Then she made a suggestion I thought was a joke. "There's little to worry about around here. Most of the beach goers are up north. You can get away with murder and no one would notice. Or if they did, they wouldn't care. 'Sides, if you get filmed, how much worse can it get? Everyone's seen what you got by now."

It made a kind of crazy sense. I did prefer swimming to running, especially in the summer. I was nervous the first time I took her suggestion, but after a few days, nude swims were my morning routine.

I'd wake up, go to the beach, strip, swim, come home, rinse off, and eat breakfast. It was a nice routine. I got my exercise, and it was quick 'cause water came off my body easily these days. My body was hairless, and I kept my hair cut short.

I'd pretty much settled in by then. It was the best time I ever had actually. I was away from Stepbitch, and both pairs of parents. Uncle Harry and Liz left me to myself, though sometimes I'd catch Uncle staring at me with a thoughtful look.

So I really got slammed when everything went to shit. It was a Tuesday in late July. I was rinsing off in the shower after my morning swim.

Uncle Harry hadn't come back from last night. He did this often so it was no big deal. Before I go on, I need to talk about a weird thing Liz did two days prior.

It was Sunday night. I was watching Arrow on Netflix, when Liz burst out of the basement, shrieking like a banshee.

She pulls me up, dances me around, yelling in Ukrainian, plants a big, wet kiss on my mouth, then runs back down the basement. I stood there, stunned, wondering, and then I shrugged and went back to Arrow.

Next morning she took Uncle Harry to the basement. He was down there an hour, and then he ran back up, out the house, and to the car. He didn't say anything to me. He just peeled rubber out of the drive.

He came back two hours later, grinning, and pretty much grins, whispers, and self-satisfied looks were the norm for the rest of the day, and then he left for the night.

So back to rinsing off. Liz was in the kitchen making breakfast. I got out of the shower and started brushing my teeth.

The phone rang. It went a couple of times before Liz answered.

"Liz here... What?! Ebat! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Tak! Twenty minutes!"

I heard her run down to the basement. I flossed, rinsed, and spit. Liz kicked open the door.

"Red! We gotta go now!"

"What?!"

"Don't ask, just do! Wait!" Liz's look turned thoughtful. "Turn around."

"What?!"

"Do it!"

I did it. A second later I got a sharp sting on my left ass cheek. "The fuck?!"

"I'll tell you later. Let's go!"

"But my clothes... "

"Already got 'em, move!"

We peeled rubber. We'd just turned the corner when kaboom! I looked back at the fireball rising where the house once stood.

"The house blew up!"

"No layno Sherlock!"

"What the fuck!"

"I blew it up. Now shut up and get dressed!"

Far easier said than done. She'd hustled me out of the bathroom and into the car without a stitch.

I didn't even get a chance to put on pants. The best way to describe our kidnapping was a big truck blocks the road. Liz stops, reverses. Another big truck at the other end. Liz stops. Car window breaks, gas, and then the next thing, I wake to the most crazy fucked up sight of my life (and also the fucking hottest).

First, I was braced to a bench by my wrists and ankles, with my legs spread.

Second, Liz was in a similar position across from me.

Third, we were both naked; me because, well I mentioned it earlier. Liz, because whoever snatched us, stripped her while we were out of it.

Liz was hot. I knew that. Nude Liz was a supernova. I could see all of her 'cause our tables were tilted facing each other. Her body was smooth and hairless, like mine. She also worked out. I talked about her brick shithouse build earlier. Not Schwarzenegger size but real hard bodied.

We were in some warehouse, I guess. There were lots of crates, but a lot of tech equipment too. Plus a whole bunch of stuff like tanks and military trucks, and other vehicles.

Liz was just waking up. Once she blinked her eyes and looked around, her first words were, "Ebat!" Followed by a string of profanities in Ukrainian and English.

I waited until she stopped. It didn't seem safe to interrupt her session. She wasn't scared, like me, just royally pissed.

Liz scowled, not at me, but the situation in general.

"Well, this is one bloody fucking mess. Sorry I got you into this, Red."

"Uh, yeah, uh... what did you get me into?"

"Something really, really bad. I'm not going to soften it, Red. If the man who I think's behind this is here, it's worse than it looks."

"Who?"

"Me, I suspect," a very British accent right out of a Bond flick said.

Both of us turned our heads in the voice's direction. A large group of very well armed, very large (most of them), skinheaded, nazi-tattoed up the wazoo, goons had just come around a bunch of crates.

"But then, many think I'm the worst man in the game," the voice came from the goon squad. I couldn't see the man.

"Just stop your villainous boast and show yourself fuckface."

"Tsk, how rude. But you always had a reputation for unladylike behavior."

The goon squad parted and Paul Shaffer stepped into view.

Well, he looked like Paul Shaffer. He was bald, had on black goggles, and dressed like he was set to play laser tag, but really, I expected David Letterman to come right behind him.

He wore one of those Bond villain smirks on his face, much of it directed toward Liz.

"Yelizaveta Slutskaya. Doctor Jeremus Hazard at your service."

"You're as much a doctor as I'm a nun. So how's the weapons and drug business doing, or have you gone back to sex-trafficking?"

"Typical bravado, and you," he turned to me, "Your I.D says you're Morris Micklewhite, and you're eighteen, albeit I'd check your card at a movie theater. What's a young lad like you doing associating with the likes of Dr. Slutskaya and Harry Coal? Other than prancing around naked, which seems to be a habit with you."

The goon squad chuckled. Fuck! Even evil villains saw the video.

"He's just some homeless kid we let crash in our house. He's nobody."

"I was not talking to you Doctor Slutskaya. I find it curious the son of the COO of the world's third largest tech corporation is found in the company of the world's foremost nanotech engineer, and one of the intelligence community's top wetworks specialists."

Remember the Road Runner and Coyote cartoon where the Coyote is chasing the Road Runner, comes close enough to just barely touch him, then the Road Runner goes "Beep! Beep!" and hits light speed, leaving the Coyote literally standing still, and he has to pick his jaw up from the ground? Well, mine dented the concrete.

The drop dead hot, hardbodied Ukrainian blonde bombshell laying across from me was some fucking superscientist, some crazy arms smuggling, mad scientist had kidnapped us, and my Uncle, my goddamn fucking Uncle, was a hit man; a real big deal of a hit man, from what the mad scientist said.

This is where I asked for the thousandth time, What the fuck did I get into?

"That confused expression is either a very good act, or you honestly never knew Dr. Slutskaya and Harry Coal's actual activities.

Liz had nothing to say except to give me a smile and a shrug.

"Liz said she was an artist. Harry was her bodyguard," I droned very, very numbly. I think I was a little lightheaded; sensory overload and all that.

"You're too young and fresh-looking to be in the Life. Those were very interesting videos by the way. Ah! A blush. You just might be the genuine article. Albeit, considering your nudity at the moment, why you should be embarrassed is beyond me. As it stands, you might have some use as a hostage. Maybe I can get some money from your father. Right now, I'm more interested in Doctor Slutskaya. To be more specific, Project Achilles."

"I don't... "

"'Know what you're talking about.' Really Ms. Slutskaya. Give a man some respect. Project Achilles has been floating around scientific circles and the dark web for years. From the little I heard, there are only three scientists capable of conceiving such a project. One is in a Russian jail, the others in a British mental hospital. That leaves only you, who disappeared from her lab in Minsk three years ago, and surfaced here."

"So I took a sabbatical. No crime in that."

"In an out of the way neighborhood in Key West. In a house that used ten times the electricity as any other in the city. I know your profile. A brilliant scientist such as you does not stay idle for extended periods, you especially, given your associations. So I'll ask again. What is Project Achilles and why is the Syndicate funding it?"

"You tell me. You mentioned this 'Project Achilles' several times, so you know more than me, obviously."

"I only know its theoreticals. Biotech enhancement. Specifics are unknown, thanks to you. The New Town neighborhood currently has a new crater. You were very thorough, if crude."

"Geez, those gas explosions."

"Riiight, so I take it this is as much as you're willing to divulge."

"I can't tell you what I don't know."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, eventually. I guess it's time to bring out the MP."

Now, I was listening, trying to make sense of this back and forth. Project Achilles? The Syndicate? The whole dialogue came off like a 60s Bond flick with touches of X-Files. And then he said MP, and I'm thinking, What does a military policeman have to do with this? Kind of silly, yes, but I knew jack about the Life then.

Doc Hazard gestured to his goons, and one of them wheeled out a cart. On the cart was a strange-looking machine. I don't quite know how to describe it, but I'll try.

It was about the size of a large pressure cooker, and kind of looked like one.