4-1-1: Where Are Our Children (A Serial Novel) Episode 1 of 9

by Gary Sapp

and informed me that he was in town to see a local man, another former Pandora agent who was running from Serena as well. After I arrived at the hotel we argued about him turning himself in. He was emotional. We drank a lot. We had sex. It went back and forth like that for a while. I don’t remember a lot of specific details other than our sexual chemistry haven’t eroded over time.”

  Sheridan struggled to keep a straight face. “Did this man, who Champion mentioned, ever show? Did you even overhear a phone call he may have made?”

  “No. Sorry. Joseph never even gave me his name or what his function was in Pandora’s organization. I could tell that they had important business though. Like I said, Nicholas, other than what I’ve told you, last night was a blur on my radar.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Is it? He can’t have gone too far. I’m sure with all of your resources and influence you will track him down sooner or later. In the meanwhile, you are stuck with little old me?” Angel spread her arms over her head for effect, the gin working its old magic in her bloodstream.

  “Yes, Doctor, little old you, a former Pandora recruit who happens to be the real reason that we ventured down to this shithole in the first place.” Sheridan said to her surprise. We she cocked her own curious brow he added, “On two different occasions this agency had retained your services in a consulting capacity, the results have been…productive on each case. You are very good in your field of expertise.”

  “Thank you,” Angel said seriously. “My work in Clinical Psychology means everything to me. The Deputy Director seems to respect my opinions.”

  “He does. He speaks fondly of you, almost if he has a very soft spot for you in his heart.”

  It’s probably a hard one and it hangs around a little further South than his heart. “Listen, Nicholas, you say that you and these other agents came down here looking for me?”

  “We did.”

  “Then this must all be about that phone call I had with Louis Keaton around ten days ago now. Again, during that little season of madness that I spent as an operative in Pandora, Louis was a patient of mine. I’m sure you already know this as well.”

  “I am aware of your relationship with Keaton, Doctor.” It was time for Sheridan to flash his own mischievous grin at her. Angel surmised that mischievous looked good on the federal agent. “And your phone records indicate it’s been 11 days since you last spoke to Keaton, actually. But forgive me, I’m interrupting.”

  Angel sat her cup in a saucer and read the statue that Sheridan had produced from The Justice Department reminding her of federal regulations to allow wiretapping of phone lines to prevent terrorism in by foreign and domestic means. The waitress returned and filled Sheridan’s cup once more. He paid his bill with a government credit card and tipped her with a ten dollar bill to finalize her dismissal.

  “Louis Keaton was a troubled man.” Angel heard herself say.

  “He is still a troubled man.” Sheridan unlatches his briefcase, produces a laptop, which he has up and booted with the care and precision of a man who has more than a familiarity with contemporary technology. “I want to get your opinion of what you see here.”

  Sheridan’s computer is equipped with a split screen. The video feed on the left side is from one of the big networks documenting the bombing of The Andrew Young Center upstate in Atlanta with the usual coverage angles. The one on the right side, while not as nearly a clean feed, is far more interesting, and catches Angel’s attention. This feed is from a surveillance camera perched on the side of an adjacent building. It is time stamped. Angel recognizes the figure of an undersized man who was wearing a denim jacket, flannel shirt and faded jeans and ankle length cowboy boots. Louis Keaton.

  “Oh my, God,” Angel ignored her coffee cup and nearly reached for her gin stash itself almost out of habit, but thought the better of that decision. “I haven’t watched the news this morning. How many more casualties were added to the list during the night?”

  “I didn’t get an update. And I don’t like to speculate specifics on such things, though I suspect the number will grow over the coming days.”

  “I’m sure it will,” She settled for a subtle sip out of her cup. She watched the time stamped footage once again with it showing Louis holding something in his hand, then the youth center exploding into a ball of fire. “I am not going to argue with you about what that camera implies, Nicholas.”

  “That footage doesn’t imply anything.” Angel heard Sheridan’s voice take on a stern tone. “Keaton’s there on scene. He is a known operative of Pandora. They have taken openly taken responsibility and credit earlier this morning for the terrorist act known as 411.”

  “Give me some latitude here. We both believe Keaton to be a troubled man. But he is a man known to be a pedophile, a man who has repeatedly molested children, especially young boys.” Angel said. “Blowing up buildings has not been his MO. That is not who this man is.”

  Sheridan eyed Angel a second or two after his cell phone rang. He begged the doctor’s pardon and began to listen to the party on the other end, an agent named Green. He makes a sudden decision that she should be in on the conversation and he puts the speaker on and lays the cell, face up, on table.

  “…We’ve been monitoring your conversation, sir, and there is no sign of Champion.” Agent Green was saying. “I have received intel that a dead body had been discovered four blocks from your present location. He is a white male who was either in his late 40’s, or early 50’s. There was no ID on him.”

  “Is there an immediate cause of death?” Angel asked Sheridan, as she was familiar with FBI procedures in the time she’d spent working with them.

  “Agent Green,” Sheridan said. “Answer the doctor’s question.”

  “Yes, sir,” Green sounded unsure of whether this violated protocol or not. “He suffered a gunshot wound to his forehead at close range. It was a small caliber weapon. The body is still warm so the evidence points that it occurred in the past six to 12 hours. It will take three to four hours before we get the ballistics back from the lab.”

  “Expect those reports back in no more than two hours. Walker’s crew is known to pull miracle off from time to time, especially with proper stimuli to motivate them. I will have The Deputy Director to give them a call as soon as I’m finished here.” Sheridan powered down his laptop. “Agent Green, does any evidence support a theory that this gunshot was self-inflicted.”

  “Unlikely. There is an absence of residue on his fingers and his wrist. You’ve trained us not to speculate—“

  “I have at that, Agent Green. Let’s make an exception this one time, go ahead”

  Agent Green said, “I think it was a robbery. As I already told you he has no Id or wallet at all. His pants pockets were turned inside out. And a couple of his fingers are discolored as if there were rings there once. I believe the perpetrator lifted the jewelry off him before he got out of dodge.” The man concluded by saying, “I would advise Agent Walker to report her findings to the local police department.”

  “I disagree, Lance. We will stay on top of this ourselves and examine it closer.”

  “Yes, sir,” Angel could hear the younger man grown in the backdrop before the line was severed.

  Agent Sheridan drained the last of his coffee. “As I said, Doctor, we came looking for you.”

  “Why? I don’t see where I can help you.”

  “I need you in Atlanta. I need you aiding in the 411 investigation.”

  “What could I offer you in an investigation like this?” She wiped sweat from her brow, grabbed her gin stash out of her purse for Sheridan to see, and stood to leave. “And as you can see, Nicholas, I’m in no condition to help you. You have good people in there, in Atlanta already. Christopher Prince is personal friend of mine, he runs the field office, and most importantly is one hell of a Special Agent…”

  Sheridan breaks eye contact for the first time in the past few minutes. He pushes his coffee cup away from him in disgust.
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br />   Angel abruptly sits down and flops back in her seat.

  “Something has happened to Christopher hasn’t it? Sheridan compounds her concerns when he fails to reply immediately. “Where is Agent Prince?”

  “No one has seen or heard from Agent Prince since yesterday morning.”

  “He’s notorious for not answering his cell.”

  Sheridan nodded in agreement. “He is notorious for not answering his private cell phone. Agent Prince’s partner told her superiors that Prince had an appointment with his private doctor for a follow up from an annual examination. He never showed. Agent Tabitha Blue hasn’t been able to raise him on his company line. Agent Prince never misses a call on this line. No matter what time of day he receives a call he always answers this phone.”

  Angel searched the ceiling of the restaurant and then the floor for answers. Where could Christopher be?

  Sheridan: “There is more.”

  Angel exhaled. “There always is.”

  “The 411 attacks are not centered on the bombing of The Andrew Young Center alone. Atlanta’s Mayor, Ernestine Johnson has died of complications stemming from some type of poisoning. And currently, there is a siege still underway at The Fox Theatre in Midtown Atlanta.” Sheridan hesitated for a long time, and Angel’s dread grew. “Agent Blue told her superiors that Agent Prince mentioned that he had ticket to show there the night the siege began there. He