The Actor

Confrontation

Chris

The neuroscience building was separated from its neighbor by a grassy embankment, landscaped with flower beds set in brick enclosures and threaded through with a narrow footpath. With Travis having resumed his story of the hackers and their motivations, with Jenny still listening intently, they stood up from the grass and started walking. They were halfway along the path when Chris felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was the same man. Tall and thickset, he had a lumbering bulk that nevertheless suggested an ability to move quickly when he wanted to. Along with the black leather jacket, he wore a baseball cap pulled down to keep his face in shadow, all that was visible being a stubbled chin, enough that Chris would later give a description of the man as being, broad faced, in his late forties or early fifties.

He stepped alongside Chris, bringing everyone to a halt.

"What ..." Chris's words got no further. He felt a sharp object pressed against his flank, a brief pain like a bee sting, and flinched away. Looking down he saw the steel of a blade.

"Another move like that and this goes straight into your kidneys. Understood?" He reinforced his words with another brief thrust of the knife, enough that Chris could feel its tip cut a little deeper into flesh.

Meanwhile two men had emerged from ahead of them, halting in front of Jenny and Travis. With a nod from their boss one of them grabbed Travis by the wrist and twisted, executing a deft move that left him standing behind Travis, forcing his arm up into the small of his back. As Travis let out a yelp of pain, the man caught hold of his other arm, twisting this also. Having gained acknowledgment of submission, his companion slipped a cable tie around Travis's wrists, ratcheting it tight to secure him arms-behind-back. They shuffled him a few steps off the footpath where he wouldn't be obvious to passersby, halting where the ground began to fall away to the base of the neighboring building.

"You friend looks like he breaks easy. Can I count on you two to behave?" The man's voice had a natural low growl, needing no special intonation to convey the threat, suggesting intimidation was his natural mode of communication.

"Now show me some ID."

"Huh?" Chris felt the tip of the knife release its pressure on his skin. He tried to pull free, to move across to Jenny but the restraining hand on his shoulder prevented him. Chris was nearly as tall as Travis and thicker set, but compared to this other man, there may as well have been no difference between them at all.

"You heard me. Identification. Now!" The man pushed Chris so that he was standing next to Jenny, the pair of them facing their assailant. The other accomplice, the one not occupied with Travis, had moved around behind them to prevent any escape in that direction.

Keeping his moves slow and deliberate, Chris took his wallet from his pocket, opened it and removed a card that he handed across.

"What the fuck's this?"

"It's a New Zealand driving license. My name's on the back."

"Chris Trenton?" The man's expression was disdainful. He passed the card to a henchman who photographed it with his phone before flicking it away onto the grass.

He turned to Jenny with a shake of the head. "I know who you are. You'll have to excuse us a minute while I have a word with your boyfriend in private."

Apparently confident that the situation was in his control, the man had put his knife away. He drew Chris back from the footpath, closer to where his subordinate was holding Travis. When he spoke again it was in the same low growl: "You entered into a contract recently that you have failed to fulfil. People are getting impatient." He grinned. "I'm your reminder."

Chris waited. "And ..."

"That's it. Perhaps they think you're smart enough to figure the rest for yourself."

"They?"

"I'm to bring back your reply." Abruptly he released his grip, took a step back. "What'll it be? They are expecting a promise of full and imminent cooperation."

"No, I ..." Chris's words were interrupted by a yelp of pain from Travis.

"Hey, let him go. This has nothing to do with him." As he said these words Chris began moving toward Travis.

The jacketed thug remained where he was, allowing the futility of Chris's gesture to defeat itself. "As I said, this time is just a reminder. Next time it will be you who's squealing."

Chris halted just short of Travis and his tormenter. As he did so, he saw two young men coming down the path from its opposite end. Students, he assumed, still some distance away, but in line of sight.

They stopped, trying to make sense of the scene. "Hey, ..."

Belatedly registering the intrusion, the thug holding Travis released the pressure on his arm slightly. Seeing this chance, Chris ran at him, swinging a punch to the head that impacted with enough force to send a shock of pain through his hand. Its effect on the man appeared to be no more than to startle him, but it was enough for Travis to wriggle free and attempt to run. It didn't get him far. Chris watched as the man kicked out with one foot, catching Travis on the ankles and sending him down hard, arms still locked behind his back.

The sound of his head hitting the brick edging of the flower pot was like a judge's gavel hitting the bench, bringing all action to a sudden halt.

The leather-jacketed man looked at Travis's inert body, at the blood dribbling from his head. He turned to Chris. "I've been in this business a long time." He shook his head. "But what you just did. That was the most stupid fucking thing I have ever seen." With a final look of distaste, he turned and walked away, followed more warily by his two accomplices. They strode past the two young men as if they weren't there.

The way Travis had fallen down the slope of the embankment had left his head below the level of the rest of his body, worsening the bleeding. Should they move him when all the advice said not to? This need to make a decision only amplified the sense of panic Chris was feeling. Forcing himself to act, he removed his shirt (already stained with a circle of his own blood) and used it to apply compression to the bleeding from Travis's head. He would leave him where he lay, the risk of exacerbating a spinal injury too great. It was hard to tell whether his efforts were helping stem the bleeding, but it made him feel he was at least doing something. All the while, Jenny knelt by his side, unable to offer any help beyond the reassurance of her presence.

When the ambulance arrived, no more than ten minutes later, he gratefully stood aside, watched silent and bare-chested as Travis was neck-braced and bandaged, then transferred to a stretcher. A bystander had earlier provided a pocket knife which they had used to cut the cable-tie.

They gave their statements at the local police station, Chris now covered in a tee-shirt crowdsourced from the throng that had gathered to gawp at their day's second extraordinary event. One of the ambulance medics had given him a sticking plaster. It was now affixed over the knife cut in his side.

He recounted events as honestly as he could – they had been attacked by unknown assailants, a message had been delivered – holding back only historical facts: his earlier meeting with the hackers, any suggestion that the evacuation of the neuroscience building may somehow be connected.

"Do you owe someone money?" the policeman had asked. Chris just shook his head, trusting to the state of shock he still inhabited to speak for itself.

The interviewer then left the room, returning a few minutes later, accompanied by Jenny. Even through his daze, Chris could sense a change in the cop's demeanor. No doubt he had just been made aware of who she worked for.

Shortly after they were released.