Trellis: Trellis Trilogy (One) Page 6

  She climbed down off the concrete barrier and tossed her trash in a large brown barrel. As she turned back to the girls washing her car she noticed the red minivan again filled with young children in child-car-seats and an incredibly frantic mother trying to quiet them all down. D grabbed their thoughts, calming them all down immediately with her mind, then knocked on the van window. D glanced in the filthy van, and stained crumb riddled carpet and an even bigger smile spread across her face.

  "Yes, see those girls over there," D, asked minivan mom as she pointed back towards her sports car where the unwilling carwash volunteers were finishing up.

  "Yes," The minivan mom answered, as she handed a baby bottle to one of the toddlers in the back seat.

  "Well, they are doing a community project today. They will wash the outside and clean the inside of your van free. You can go next door here and get burgers for your family with this fifty-dollar bill. One of those girls volunteering over there will come with you to help with the kids while you eat." Taking a large bill out of her wallet she handed it to minivan mom.

  “Wow, thank you. Are you sure?” Minivan mom asked, tucking her frazzled hair behind her ear.

  With a grin, D squinted and looked back towards her shiny clean car, “Quite sure.”

  Tears started to form in minivan mom’s eyes, which was more than D could take. She wanted to do something nice, not start an emotional roller-coaster.

  D sighed walking towards the girls thinking, ‘Why is it, when I try to be kind, people ruin it with tears? Maybe tears are normal?’ Then answering herself aloud, “Nah…”

  D had the strong need to make amends of the horrible things she had done in the name of Trellis. The manifestation of paying society back seemed unnatural but she couldn’t except that she had been created for evil. At least not all the time. She knew the elevated high feeling she had when she did something good that benefitted others and she liked that feeling better than when she did something terrible. She thought if she fostered this unnatural act of being kind she would overcome the thoughts she was made for malevolence and hopefully being kind would become natural. So far, all good acts she did were premeditated and were not coming natural. At least this is how she felt.

  After the carwash fiasco, D’s next stop in her newly cleaned car would be the Children’s Home for Orphans. Sauntering up to the front door, D had a pep in her gait, smile on her face, and cash in large over-stuffed envelopes. D rang the black little buzzer and waited. A large round woman answered the door and D without delay asked her who was in charge. She was guided through the office and introduced to a few different people. She left the envelopes with written instructions to spend it on the children this Christmas. Also, and this was important, D left them with the idea a mail carrier dropped it off and leaving behind the signature green flip-flops that were synonymous with the sandy island of Trellis. D had hoped that small bit of information would get back to Dr. Salvaggi.

  As the tears started to form in the office staff’s eyes, D wanted to run away. Why was it, when people were on the receiving end of kindness their body produced tears? This reaction baffled D. She left the building as quickly as she entered.

  Moving towards her clean glossy car, she wished she could see Coughlin’s face when he found out he donated over thirty-grand of the possibly marked money to a Children’s Home and Salvaggi’s face when he heard about the flip-flops.

  Leaving the orphanage, D set her GPS and followed it to a tremendously large upscale guarded village of mansions an hour outside of Washington DC. Destination: Agent Hinkle’s home.

  D had been trying not to use her gift but today was an exception, and D already had broken that with using it on Zan earlier, with the girls that assaulted her car with a pterodactyl sized dairy product, and then the office staff at the children’s home. Honestly, she had done more despicable things with these gifts she had, not recently though. That was the past. She immediately beckoned the security men in the small building to open the gate and she drove through unnoticed, easy. Parking her car out in front of Hinkle’s home, she hiked the exceptionally long winding, nicely landscaped sidewalk to the front door of the sizeable palace like home.

  ‘He still lives with his mom and dad,” She mused. ‘This is not your ordinary subdivision in middleclass suburbia.’

  A young lady answered the door in a black and white maid’s uniform, predictable… No need for small talk. D asked the maid where Agent Hinkle’s bedroom was.

  The maid answered, “Follow me,” as she stepped aside and D strolled in. They walked up the stairs and down a long wide impressive hallway to a closed bedroom door, having the maid lead her, using the maid’s mind for guidance.

  Assertively she had to use force to open Hinkle’s bedroom door to move the clothing out of the way on the floor to actually get in the room. She was not surprised with what she saw. Agent Hinkle’s bedroom looked like he was still in school, high school...

  She murmured out the words, “Pinhead, I can’t believe this kid had me detained… in handcuffs.” D looked around through his books and glanced at the pictures taped to the dresser mirror, mostly of women. She noticed the maid standing outside the door looking in. Her mind was telling D the cleaning services were not allowed in his bedroom, ever.

  “After seeing how he keeps his bedroom, my less than organized routines aren’t really that bad.’ She grimaced.

  D saw a rugby uniform lying on the floor near the closet, awards adorning shelves covering an entire wall. She read one of the plaques on the wall, “Agent William Hinkle III, family name…” D said contemplating the repercussions of that passed down generational name in a place like Washington DC. She noticed a sketchbook on the floor sticking out from under his bed. She pulled it out and realized he had been drawing her.

  ‘Me? Well, me with orange and purple short hair. So much for him taking orders from Coughlin,’ D thought to herself. She ripped the drawings out, folding them and stuffed them in her pocket, no need for anyone else to happen on this art project of Hinkle’s. She pulled out a few dresser drawers fumbled around and finally found something useful. A tiny little notebook, the kind you would stick in a shirt pocket. She thumbed through it and noticed a white and black business card stuck in its pages, it read Agent Colin Banks in black embossed letters with a phone number and email address. She placed it in her jacket pocket and put the notebook back in the drawer.

  She turned to the maid and asked her, “What does Agent Hinkle liked to be called?”

  “Billy,” the maid answered.

  D carefully walked back out closing the door behind her. She left, pushing any memory of D’s visit from the maid’s mind.

  Why she was left to wander around on her own and not killed was beyond her. Her thoughts on the matter were many. Maybe they were doing surgeries on people back at Trellis to take her place, a person they could control, with no success, as of yet. She knew they still needed her, hence why she would be going to Fort Knox in a week. The question she asked herself all the time and also answered, ‘Why not go public?’ Because no one would believe the government had a facility somewhere that grows people like cattle for experiments and ‘special projects’ for political purposes and had been doing so for over half a century. Think about it, every time you see a catastrophe on television, perhaps a lone gunman from an obscure background, haven’t you wondered why not more information on the suspect? Or, perhaps too much information right off the bat that seems suspicious? Perhaps a witness being interviewed but the witness void of all tears that would normally be shed in such a disastrous event? Of course, not every bad thing that happens in this world was planned and carried out by Trellis, but if it exploits a political agenda, you better believe it was carried out by one of Trellis’ handpicked clones, or many handpicked clones. D guessed in a strange way she should feel lucky Dr. Salvaggi’s surgeries on her brain were successful. Who knows what her fate may have been. At least she got out.

  Although, in today’s r
eality television world if she came forward with this ability, it would be chalked up to smoke and mirrors, and nothing more than some elaborate hoax to make fast cash for erroneous interviews to the highest bidder.

  She decided to sit inside her car in Hinkle’s driveway, researching the number and the email address she found for agent Banks. Nothing, no social media pages, and no hits on the phone number. Either he doesn’t want to be found or he hates technology. She didn’t want to do this but having no leads on Banks left her no choice. D sat in her car until Billy Hinkle returned home. When Hinkle eventually pulled in the driveway parking directly behind her car, she immediately commandeered his movements. He was easy-going. They both exit their cars. D leaned against hers as he moseys to her slowly trying to figure out who she was and why she was in his driveway. Just in case anyone was watching from afar, she spoke to Billy Hinkle smiling, as if they were old friends.

  She calmly began, “Let’s make this quick. What do you know about agent Colin Banks?”

  “Nothing.” He said as he smiled back at her.

  Wrong question, she thought. “Where is he from? How long have you known him? Where does he live? What are you working on at work?”

  “He is from Louisiana, for about six months, near work somewhere in Penn Quarter, and money laundering.”

  “Great, agent Hinkle. How long has he been an agent? Is he married? What are his hobbies?”

  “At least five years, no, he isn’t married, and he has no hobby I know of. You ask a lot of questions. Do we know each other?” He asked with a cool perfect smile spread across his broad lips.

  D frowned at him, “I don’t have time for this, you gorgeous putz.” She had been more concerned with what people in the distance would think of this encounter if they were witnessing their exchange. Pushing the thoughts that Billy was speaking to old an old friend the information came easily.

  “Do you have an address for agent Banks?”

  “No.”

  D scowled as she looked out at the lake and past that at the pristine golf course. “Well, call him and ask him out to eat. Now. Tell him you will pick him up and you need his address. Then you will call him back and cancel because you are going to be busy looking for an apartment of your own.”

  Hinkle took out his phone and dialed Banks’ phone number, she directed him to put it on speaker so she could hear.

  After a few rings, “Banks, speaking.” Hearing his voice her stomach jumped uneasily.

  “Hey, Banks, do you want to go grab a bite of dinner?” Hinkle asked with an upbeat demeanor. D had to do no manipulation with his mood. Billy Hinkle was a happy-go-lucky guy all on his own.

  “No.” Banks replied in a familiar rough tone D had heard the day before.

  “Why not? I’m buying.” Hinkle said with a smile still spread across his face she was sure Banks could sense through the phone. Hinkle was annoyingly chipper.

  “Well in that case, no.” Banks said again with a curtness that almost breached her hold on Hinkle.

  “Please, I need to talk. It’s serious.”

  “Fine, but I’m not doing Indian food again. That lunch you forced on me last week did me in. I am still recovering from it.”

  “Great, I’ll pick you up. What is your address?”

  Banks rattled it off and she promptly entered it into the GPS. She waited a few minutes, had Hinkle place another call to Banks, and cancel the dinner plans. Banks was noticeably irritated with the whole ordeal, but no doubt happy he could stay home.

  She eyed Agent Hinkle dubiously pressing her lips together remembering the information Coughlin and his minions had given her about a mole at the CCD. “Do you know an Agent Casey that works at the CCD headquarters with you?”

  The climate of his subconscious had swiftly changed to anxiety, “Yes, Beth Casey doesn’t seem to be happy I am working with Banks. She has tried on numerous times to have me work with her.”

  A woman? This new revelation surprised D and her eyes widen. She never suspected a female but maybe that is why a woman had been used.

  Agent Hinkle continued to ramble, “However, my father wanted me with a decorated agent and my father always gets his way. I don’t even want to be working there, I wanted to go into communications. I wanted a career in sports broadcasting. Nope, have to follow the path to an office.” His tone flat and filled with disappointment.

  She knew when he said the word office he was referring to a political office. D considered what that meant; a name like Hinkle’s that had been passed down from generation to generation and having a life planned out for you. She felt his pain, she was living it herself. “So, do you report to this Agent Casey?”

  “No, but she always seems to be around offering a hand to help with cases. She isn’t the type of woman you turn help down from.” Hinkle answered with raised eyebrows.

  D knew exactly what he meant by his thoughts and D could hear that Agent Beth Casey was a knockout beauty. Billy Hinkle was clearly enthralled with her beauty and D guessed that this female-agent-knockout had sexuality oozing out of every step and motion she made and that is why she was successful in being a CCD mole.

  “Does Agent Banks like her?” D asked as she stretched both arms out around her in a large circles trying to clear her mind.

  Hinkle chuckled, “Hardly. He can’t stand her and told me to never trust her. I was told by another agent that Casey took a case from Banks after he did all the leg work, she jumped the gun and called the newspaper, and took the credit for solving the crime and thus sealing a deal for a promotion with a plush office on another floor. However, I am not sure he was mad about the plush office. I think he was mad his case made the newspaper. Banks doesn’t like anything he works on made public. He is private… I assume that comes from his military background training.”

  “Military training, what did that entail?” D quickly asked before she realized the words left her mouth.

  “I’m not really sure. I know he saw combat but not sure to what extent. I think it was intense though. They say he is the best at what he did. Whatever that may have been. His back is badly scarred up, almost scored in strap marks. I’ve seen it in the locker room. I mean… I wasn’t looking! I was just… Well, it is hard not to notice a man’s back when it is as tore up as his.”

  D took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She had no idea what she was dealing with when it came to Banks. The picture she was painting of him seemed more like an abstract Picasso painting than the detailed picture she thought she would find. When she was being interrogated by Banks she looked for scar marks on his scalp. Could these scars be from the island?

  She focused back on Billy and what information she could gather. “So, Billy, this Agent Beth Casey… Do you trust she is good for our country?”

  Billy’s eyes narrowed and he mused for a moment, “I suppose, what a strange question to ask.”

  “I don’t want you to trust her. Billy, you leave that woman alone and give her a wide berth,” she fused his thoughts of staying away from Agent Casey in his mind. Under her breath, she murmured, “Until I can read that woman’s mind you need to back away from her.”

  Billy Hinkle nodded at her.

  “Do you have a number or address for this woman.”

  Billy Hinkle nodded again and smiled that broad bright smile, “Yes, ma’am, I sure do. She has gave me her number a dozen times asking me to call her, but I haven’t,” Hinkle pulled out his phone and began relaying the information.

  “Billy, you have been quite helpful, I truly thank you and your easy mind.” D quickly kissed Hinkle on the cheek and muttered, “All in a day’s work.” She handed him a small notepad and asked for his passwords to his social media accounts, he wrote them down, and handed the notepad back to her. She smugly uttered, “Now move away from my clean car. Oh, and grow a beard, it may help with the disrespect you are getting at work from the seasoned agents behind that two-way mirror. Oh, and be nicer to the cleaning staff.” She scrubbed the little chat the
y had from his thoughts and she drove away, but leaving the thought of the dinner plans being cancelled, leaving him with a mission to find an apartment, and move out of mommy and daddy’s house. An impressively intricate plan so Billy Hinkle wouldn’t tip off Banks when he was questioned about his behavior tomorrow.

  D wished sometimes it wasn’t so easy for her to do what she did, there was a time it wasn’t easy, but that was many years ago. She knew it was wrong to place so many changes in his mind, trying to control his life and circumstances. She wondered if while she was trying to turn over this new leaf of helping people if she really wasn’t spreading pandemonium. Maybe interfering with the course of events would come to backfire in staggering ways she could not fathom to the people she was trying to assist.

  Sitting outside the large grey brick apartment building where agent Banks lived she notice a sign that read, ‘Your dog is welcome at our doggy park.’

  ‘Great’, D thought, ‘Therefore, he probably had a dog, a big dog.’ No, she couldn’t read animal’s minds. D wasn’t crazy about animals and they didn’t like her, period. Not all animals seemed bothered by her but the larger the animal the more she was in danger of being attacked by one of them, and dogs of all size hated her.

  D stepped out of her car and crossed the street to the fenced-in park, and sat on the bench by the gate eyeing her surroundings. Sitting casually trying to look like she was waiting for someone, anyone.

  Her ears perked up when she heard a familiar voice behind her holler for his dog and a chill ran up the back of her neck like small pricks. Turning to look she blinked a few times trying to focus on something that seemed out of place. Banks was dressed in dark blue athletic pants and a plain red t-shirt, even though it was quite chilly he was dressed for a warm spring evening. His t-shirt sleeves were skintight around his large arms and she was genuinely struck by how handsome and normal he looked tonight. Out of the stiff confines of the CCD office, and now that she was out of his handcuffs, she noticed how young Colin Banks looked, at least younger now that he didn’t have a scowl on his face. She wasn’t sure what she thought she would find but this wasn’t it. And even though Banks was in her ‘mind reading’ range, she couldn’t hear a single thing he was thinking. Why? She wrinkled her nose and realized she wouldn’t be able to do anything tonight. Coming back tomorrow while he was at work looked like the best option and subsequently her only option.