Preexisting Conditions

By Harold Brown and Hal Stephens

After undergoing a nano-tech procedure, Richie "Fabio" Fazio finds he is no longer able to kill for his underworld employers. When a man who has a suspicious knowledge of Fabio's past and abilities turns up on his door step, Fabio believes his worries are over. But his boss has a bigger plan in mind. A race to rule New York ensues, pitting underworld forces against each other and involving the doctors who changed both men. Meanwhile, Fabio's nemesis on the NYPD continues his watch of the man the police suspect is the notorious hit man, Dead-Eye Dick.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harold Brown
• Release date: May 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393960911

Book preview

Chapter One

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Fabio?

Yeah, Boss.

What’s this I’ve been hearing?

"What have you been hearing, boss?

I've been hearing rumors that you are leaving the family business. Is that true?

Pause. It’s true Don Don.

What? Pause. Really?

It's true. I’m out. He sighed. I can't do it anymore.

Silence for a moment. Then: That really puts me in a bind, you know, said the Don. I have something coming up.

Sorry, Boss. I had a procedure that stopped it. What's done is done.

"But I really don't have anyone else who can do this kind of operation. And it really needs doing.

Sorry. Pause. No can do, Boss.

But— The voice cut off a moment. Then:  Can we at least have a sit down?

Fabio stared out the window for a few moments, seeing, yet not seeing, the cityscape buzzing with the evening's promise, and its threat. Finally, he closed his eyes and nodded. Yeah, he said. We can do a sit down. I owe you that much.

Eleven tonight, said the Boss, at Zambinos.

Zambino's, Fabio repeated. See you then, Don Don.

The connection broke and Richie Fabio Fazio sat heavily on his bed. He was a large man. A tall man. Even at forty-five, he could outlast and outfight a man twenty years younger. His long, black hair, wavy and glossy, pulled back to a tail bound by a hank of leather. His muscles, large and well defined, rippled with each movement. His face weakened knees and his voice sang deep and dignified. At the moment, naked and shining with sweat in the aftermath of friendly exercise, an onlooker would have admired his classic, Roman beauty. Perhaps the onlooker could have been forgiven for thinking Fabio was a good man, a kind man.

He was not. And had not ever been such

But he spoke well.

His dark eyes were currently haunted by fond memories suddenly repugnant.

He heard the shower still running. His current girl was in there. Probably waiting for him to join her. Had it been before last week, he would have used her hard enough that she would not have even thought about trying him again. But that was last week. Much had changed since then.

He glanced at the antique dresser brooding against the wall opposite the windows. The rich, dark and lacquered wood didn't really go with the rest of the room's bright, post-modern utility. Even so, the piece had followed him from home to home. He liked it well enough, but the real bonus was that the bottom had a false floor. His favorite tools were in there. Toys, really, as they had afforded such richly rewarded amusement. Those on whom he had exercised his sport had not been nearly so enthusiastic. But none of them were present any longer to dispute this sentiment.

But that was all over now.

It astonished him that such goings on had been such a big part of his psyche. From his very first mortal amusements as a child, in wilds of Newark, New Jersey, he had built his collection of tools-of-the-trade and made fine use of them. Many of the tools he had made himself. They fit his hands like old friends, the wood smoothed by frequent use. The leather richly darkened by tanning fluids and blood.

But the therapy had done its job. All those early, traumatic memories and the essential coldness he had experienced in infancy had been expunged. The effect had transformed his whole identity, from how he thought of himself, to how he treated others. What he had done  for his bread and butter all his life he could do no longer.

Though his former enthusiasm had brought a dark hilarity to his soul, he had never been simply happy, only amused. The therapy had changed that. The former things were gone. He was actually happy in these latter days. His girl was happy with the new tenderness he expressed in their lovemaking. And he had no urge to find anyone else to merely satisfy carnal urges. Which both puzzled and pleased him at the same time.

The doctor (a part of him still smirked at any doctor risking quackery calling himself Doctor Bobby) had explained it. All those early traumas made him who he was. Even though the doctor never knew the extent of his sickness, he was still right.

Who knew his bitch-of-a-mother could have affected him so profoundly.

Well, he thought, there’s no going back. There is a going forward, though. And that thought made him smile. And with that feeling of good will toward himself and the world at large in mind, he thought about finding a bag big enough for his tools of the trade.

Maybe his Boss (the inimitable Don Don Baron) could give them to some other killer.

Chapter Two

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Mr. Fazio, I guarantee that your life will improve by leaps and bounds after our work is done here.

Fabio stared across the desk at Doctor Robert Schellenberger (You can call me Dr. Bobby!) and nodded vaguely. Look, doc, he said, I'm only here because I let my girlfriend persuade me to come.

Perfectly understandable, said Doctor Bobby. "But I think (and tell me if I'm wrong!) that a man of your stature would not let a woman tell him what to do, but would only come if he were truly interested in changing his life for the better.

"Am I right? Of course I am! I couldn't tell you how many of my clients have been 'persuaded'  (and Doctor Bobby made quote marks with his fingers) by significant others, but really, deep down, really did want a positive change in their lives.

And I can tell you that none of them – not one – has been dissatisfied!

Fabio nodded again. I hear you, he said. But I want you to tell me one more time how it all works.

How it works? exclaimed Doctor Bobby.

Yeah.

How it works is the most up-to-date technological innovation. Nanobots, Mr. Fazio. Nanotechnology is what it is. He opened a drawer in his desk and fished out an object. This is a model of one of our little helpers, Mr. Fazio. He set the model on his desk, in front of Fabio.

What the hell is that? He picked it up. The model seemed like nothing more than a cluster of hundreds of tiny balls lumped into an odd shape.

That, Mr. Fazio, is a model of one of our friendly little nanobots. He smiled, but Fabio did not see it. That – and millions more – will change your mind.

Fabio looked up. Oh?

His expression must have been fierce, for Doctor Bobby swallowed and paled a little.Yes, sir, he said. The actual nanotech is tiny, Mr. Fazio. Small as viruses. They are able to move and will seek out specific sites in your brain that corresponds to unconscious memories related to your earliest experiences – things that happened to us before the age of three, generally speaking.

Why three?

Doctor Bobby shrugged, then rested his elbows on the desk. The researchers tell us that most of our responses to the world – how we socialize, how we react to threats and stress and so on – are largely determined to things that happen to us in the first year or so of life.

So you're saying that if, say, someone hit me when I was a baby, that would mess up how I react to someone taking a swing at me?

Doctor Bobby nodded. Exactly, he said. Or even something like if your mother ever held you when you were a baby could change how you react to women, or how you approach a partner. Things like that.

Really?

The science is pretty solid, Mr. Fazio.

Fabio tossed the model to Doctor Bobby, who nearly fumbled it. So go through the procedure again, he said. In my profession, I can't be too careful.

And what is it that you do?

Security.

Doctor Bobby nodded and smiled again. I can guarantee that this procedure will not impede, in any way, the ability to defend yourself or your property.

Fabio stared at the other man for a few moments – long enough for Doctor Bobby to begin to sweat from the vague, yet urgent threat that wafted off this client. Finally, he said, You're sure I would be able to defend myself from a threat? That's very important in my line of work.

Doctor Bobby nodded. He tried to talk, but only a squeak came out. He coughed, then said, Yes, the fight or flight mechanism is unaffected by the procedure.

Fabio stared a moment longer – his affect totally flat.

The science is very, very clear on that.

Fabio then nodded. Okay. So run me through the process.

Simplicity itself, said Doctor Bobby. When we do the procedure, you will feel no discomfort. You will receive three injections. The first will be a sedative.

Why?

Why?

Why a sedative, said Fabio. I don't like being drugged.

That's understandable, said Doctor Bobby.

Fabio stared again.

The doctor began to sweat again. It's perfectly safe, he blurted.

I'm sure it is, said Fabio. But why a sedative?

The nanobots work most efficiently when the conscious mind is turned off, said Doctor Bobby. The research shows that the procedure is not nearly as effective or speedy if the client is awake.

Fabio nodded. Okay. So I get sedated. Then what?

The doctor let out a relieved breath. That's when we administer the nanotech, he said.

What do they do? It came out a little more harsh, than Fabio wanted, but who cared about the feelings of this guy? Right? Doctor Bobby! What a fucking faggot name! If these things are so harmless, what the fuck do they do?

Doctor Bobby coughed nervously.

Fabio let his lips part to show his teeth. Not a smile. Not really. More a tool to encourage honesty. 'Look!' the teeth said. 'Tell me what I need to know and I won't fucking rip your throat out!'

Well, uh, the nanobots will seek out certain, well-understood areas of the brain, said the doctor. These areas are activated in our earliest infancy by the primal relationship between mother and child. You understand?

Fabio nodded. Go on.

Doctor Bobby coughed nervously. Again. Yes. Um. Well, the nanobots reach these areas of the brain and they, um, edit certain cells.

And that means what? Fabio actually had a first-rate intellect, but hated anyone knowing it. It was a useful ruse in his line of work. Many a man or woman now slept in the deeps for underestimating him. Give it to me simple, cause I'm a simple guy.

Well, uh, memory is an electro-chemical action between brain cells. Partly electric. Partly chemical. This means that memory can be changed if you change those things, he said, warming to his spiel, taken from the manual that came with the equipment. You follow?

Fabio nodded. Sure.

So the nanobots find the cells responsible for those early bonding memories. He paused and frowned. You understand the concept of bonding?

Refresh me.

Doctor Bobby nodded eagerly. He sensed at a deep level that the danger radiating from this dangerous-looking client had receded somewhat. Bonding is a process that all animals go through to some degree or other. Us included.

Oh yeah, said Fabio. I heard of this. It's like ducks!

Oh, so you know about that?

Fabio nodded. Why don't you tell me again, anyway.

Absolutely. Ducks are a great example of bonding. Doctor Bobby nodded knowledgeably. If you hatch ducks away from their natural mother, the first animal they see, they will think is their mother.

So if I were to incubate – that's the word, right? The other man nodded. If I were to incubate duck eggs and were there when they hatched, the baby ducks would see me and think I was their mom.

Exactly right! exclaimed Doctor Bobby. And those ducklings would follow you around like you were in fact their mother.

So are you saying I'm a duck? Fabio asked quietly.

Doctor Bobby paled and coughed. No! he said. Oh. No, no, no! You – we all are infinitely more complex than a mere duck! He hesitated. Then he pressed on. Even as complex as we are, there is a bonding process between mother and baby that happens in the first weeks of life. If a mother holds her child close, makes him warm, then that child will grow up to be a well-adjusted, and warm adult.

And if not? For the first time, Fabio did not try to intimidate, or frighten. For the first time, he let his honest, center emerge – perhaps for the first time since infancy. What happens then?

The research is clear, said Doctor Bobby. Persons who do not receive that essential warmth during that critical time either are withdrawn and frightened all their lives, or...

Or?

They become maladjusted to the point of.. um... of...

Of what?

Doctor Bobby swallowed hard. He understood exactly the nature of the man in front of him, if not the severity. It fairly radiated from Fabio in waves of darkness and danger. He felt like he was in front of that insane murderer from that movie – the one who used a captive bolt to kill people like they were animals to the slaughter.. But the doctor also sensed the man's need and readiness. I'm afraid it shows up as criminality.

Fabio nodded. Up to what? Up to murder?

Doctor Bobby, now sweating once more, took his life in his own hands and nodded. Yes,' he said quietly. That, too."

Huh.

Neither man spoke for quite some time. Fabio stared at the floor, deep in thought. The doctor stared nervously at nothing in particular – least of all the man in front of him. He wondered if – as he suspected – he had peed his pants a little. Mr. Fazio scared the shit out of him, though he could not say why, though he did have some suspicions.

Finally, Fabio looked up and said, What happens to the patient then?

Doctor Bobby swallowed again, and forged ahead. The nanobots find the electro-chemical memories and substitute a generic sense-memory of being held, the feeling of the mother's body, a general smell of mother and the memory of the mother's heartbeat.

Fabio looked sharply at him. That's it?

Doctor Bobby nodded.

Just warmth, skin, smell, and heartbeat?

Doctor Bobby nodded. That's all we can really sense anyway. When we are newborns.

Fabio stood suddenly, almost causing the doctor to piss himself (again). He stalked to the door and back. He did it a second time. Then a third. He walked to the window of the rather shabby office and stared out the window, at the thin pedestrian and motor traffic flowing by on West End Avenue. Then he stomped back and sat heavily on the chair again.

That's it? he said. That's the whole thing?"

Doctor Bobby nodded. Yes, he said. That is it. You wake up, and things will change. For the better."

Huh. He scrubbed his face with his hands. That is strange, he muttered. Just that made me... feel a little funny. He shook his head. Okay, Doc. Let's do it.

Doctor Bobby let out his breath, completely relieved. Oh! Okay! Great. He ran his fingers through his hair. So, I can have my receptionist set up an appointment... What?

Fabio shook his head. No appointment, Doc, he said. Let's do it now.

But.

Fabio grinned his feral grin. No, Doc, he said. No one knows I'm here. So it's now, or not at all.

But we have to set up the nanobots.

Fabio shook his head. I checked you out before I agreed to come over. I know where you got the process. I know that the process is generic – the nanobots use the same generic memory to make the change.

Dr. Bobby shook his head, suddenly terrified. But –

Don't be that way, doc. His smile grew broader. We will have much to talk about if this works. You have a chance to make a lot of money for very little work.

Doctor Bobby stared at him for a long time. A lot of money, you said?

Fabio, still grinning his shark's grin nodded. My employer may want to do you a favor that will bring you great wealth, he said. All you have to do is to help him from time to time. Understand?

Doctor Bobby looked at him, confused for a few moments. Then the realization of what Fabio was saying dawned. He paled a little and said, Oh. Then he nodded. Okay," he said finally.

My assistant will do the procedure right away. He pressed a button on his desk. Herm, can you come in here? We have a client ready for the procedure. He looked at Fabio again. You won't regret this Mr. Fazio.

I better not, said Fabio.

The Doctor Bobby really did piss his pants. Just a little.

Chapter Three

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The blade is better than the bullet when you need to do the job in public.

What? Jerry Lang woke with a start. His eyes stared straight at the stained ceiling of his apartment.  Nothing but silence, punctuated by the hum of the air conditioner in the window. He was alone.

As always.

Now that had been one hell of a dream, he thought. What was the shadowy figure saying?  It felt like himself, yet at the same time, he knew it was not himself. Something about knives.

He levered himself up and swung around to sit on the edge of his bed. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, started, and pulled them away again. They stuck slightly as he did so. The feeling was disconcerting because at the same time he felt his usual revulsion for anything sticky, another part of him thrummed with pleasure, though it had not informed him why.

And what a time to get a piss-woody!

He looked at his hands.

What the fuck?

When was I painting? Was his first, irrational thought. Then: Oh shit! That's not red paint at all!

He jumped to his feet.

His hands were covered in dark, drying blood. His arm had dried bloody rivulets running to his elbows. His shirt was patched with drying blood, growing darker until it was almost black. There was blood all over his sheets! He looked around wildly. His shoes still stood by the bed. Well, one of the was at attention, the other lay capsized in a dark puddle of blood. Bloody footprints marched backward toward the kitchen.

He felt something attempt to exit his belly in a hurry. He sprinted for the bathroom. Barely made it. Mostly bile. Mostly.

He lay his cheek on his arm, against the cool plastic of the seat. He hit the lever. His eyes swiveled drawn back to the horrible discovery in the bedroom. He could see the standing shoe.  Wasn’t it supposed to be gray? he thought. And the thought triggered him.

More bile.

When that unpleasantness came to a close (for now,