by Bobby Nash
“Let Detective Walker go after his partner,” Patterson told Corwin. “Let me go with him.”
“You’re not finished investigating this,” Corwin said. “I need you on this. Who is he sending after POTUS?”
“Then send a couple of our guys with him. We’ve got enough agents in the field to… to…” he voice trailed off.
“Sam?”
That’s when the pieces started falling into place for Agent Patterson.
“Oh, God,” she breathed.
“What?”
“We’ve had agents questioning and rooting around his house and office the last few days,” Patterson told Corwin. “He’s infected one of our guys. He’s using one of our agents to target the President.”
“What are you saying?” Corwin demanded.
“The Controller has turned a Secret Service Agent into an assassin!”
Thirty-one
Washington DC
Sunday
Catherine Jackson was frustrated.
When she had agreed to take her sister home and help broker a peace between Charisma and their mother, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Mama Mavis, who they would never actually call this to her face, was a stubborn woman. She loved her daughters, but doted on Charisma, the youngest. Charisma was Mavis’ last chance for a daughter who would follow in her footsteps, unlike Catherine and her older sister, Elanya, both of whom had rebelled against their mother’s societal aspirations and did their own thing.
Mavis didn’t love her older daughters any less, but she was never able to shake her disappointment in them, nor was she any good at hiding it. All three of the Jackson daughters had felt the icy gaze of her disapproval. Two of them fled and Charisma, Mavis’ baby, was getting ready to run herself.
Charisma was far more like her mother than either of her sisters. Jacks often assumed that the similarities between the two were the reason that their arguments were as heated as they became. She had her fair share of disagreements with her mother, but Jacks had never had to resort to a shouting match.
Until now.
The raised voices around her had conjoined into a cacophony of sounds that battered her from all sides until it triggered the mother of all headaches. Her father, Robert, tried to keep order, but his voice only added to the sounds crashing around in her brain like angry waves battering a rocky shore.
“Enough!”
Jacks wasn’t even aware she had shouted at them until the room fell silent around her. Suddenly, every eye in the room was looking at her.
“Just stop,” Jacks said, softer this time. “Be quiet.”
Her outburst had gotten their attention, but they were still looking at her oddly. Jacks wasn’t sure why. She wanted to find out what was wrong. Why did they look… scared? There was no reason for them to be scared of her. Not ever. Before the question could pass her lips, Jacks noticed the extra weight in her hand.
When did I pull my gun?
She couldn’t remember reaching for the gun.
When had she unsnapped the holster flap?
When had she pulled it free of its holster?
Why had she pulled her gun?
“Jacks?” Charisma asked, a tremble in her voice. “What are you doing?”
“It’s okay, Charri,” Jacks said. “I just need you to be quiet for a minute okay?”
“Sure. Sure. Whatever you need,” her sister said, taking a step away with her mother, who had started to cry. “It’s okay, Mom.”
“See, now that’s better,” Jacks said. “No more goddamned yelling. If you would just talk to each other like human beings instead of… Mom, just let Charri be who she wants to be, okay? Stop trying to turn her into you.”
Mavis started to protest, an involuntary reaction, but she caught herself and remained silent, putting herself between her youngest daughter and the one holding the gun.
“Listen to me, Catherine,” Robert Jackson said softly.
Jacks lifted her head and focused on her father. He had always made her feel safe. His voice was strong and firm, but never threatening. If anyone could cut through the fog that had settled over her, he could.
“Daddy?”
“It’s me, sweetheart. Why don’t we, uh, put the gun down, okay?”
“How do you put up with all this… this noise?” Jacks asked, running her hands over her ears and hair, eyes closed tight. She still held the gun. “It’s all so… loud.”
“You learn to accept the noise,” he told her, his voice warm and comforting. “That’s what you do for those you love, sweetheart. You learn to tolerate the noise.”
“But it’s so loud.”
Robert shrugged. “Sometimes, but the surprising secret… do you want to know what the secret is, honey?”
She opened her eyes and gave her father a long, hard look, the one that all parents of teenagers recognized. Her expression said it all. Get on with it, already!
Her father smiled. “The secret,” he said, inching closer. “The secret is that, when the noise is gone, you’ll find yourself missing it.”
Jacks’ eyes grew wider.
“How’s that for a kick in the head, huh?”
Her expression dropped, her shoulders shrugged, and for a second or two, Robert Jackson thought he had reached her.
Then Jacks pointed the gun directly at him.
“Is that the best you can do, Dad?”
###
Most of the time, Melvin Walker was a safe driver.
He kept to the speed limit and rarely did anything that would even be remotely misconstrued as reckless.
This was not most times.
He took his unmarked car into a skid as he turned off the highway onto a surface street that led to the home of Jacks’ parents. Walker had visited the place with Jacks once, when she had dragged him along to a family dinner party. He felt so out of place, a blue-collar guy amongst the upper crust of Washington DC’s powerful players. He shook hands with a few senators that day and met the mayor and chief of police. He and Jacks later joked that it took a party for Walker to meet his boss.
Jacks admitted to him that she did not care for the family’s social obligations, but she attended the least amount she could to keep her mother happy. After meeting the matriarch of the Jackson clan, he realized that keeping her blissful was a full-time job.
There weren’t many reasons for Melvin Walker to journey to the upper crust side of town, but thankfully, he remembered where they lived now that he needed to get there fast.
He’d put out a call to see if there were any uniformed officers in the area who could get there before him, but there wasn’t anyone closer than him. He screeched out of the Secret Service facility without looking back. Agent Patterson had tried to join him, but her boss wouldn’t hear of it.
Walker didn’t wait around for Corwin to tell him where he could rush off to, but that was a benefit of not working for him. If the Secret Service SAC called his boss, then Walker would deal with that ass chewing when it happened. Special Agent in Charge or not, Corwin would not get between Walker and helping his partner.
Nothing looked out of place on the street in front of the Jackson estate when he pulled up. A few vehicles were parked along the side of the road, but nothing leapt out at him.
He pulled into the driveway and prepared to stop and buzz the gate.
Imagine his surprise to see the gate open.
He drove ahead cautiously and parked next to Jacks’ car.
Detective Walker killed the engine and eased forward, the hated cane in hand, but his free hand hovered only inches from his service weapon.
“Jacks?” He called out to his partner, hoping she could hear him coming. The last thing he wanted to do was get shot again.
The front door was closed.
Before he could try the door handle, a gunshot rang out from inside the house and echoing off of the brick and concrete surroundings.
Detective Walker pushed open the door hard, shattering the frame on imp
act. He winced when it slammed against the wall.
“Jacks? It’s Mel! You okay in there?”
There was no answer. Not that he had really expected one.
“Jacks? Come on, talk to me, partner.”
“We’re in here,” someone other than his partner shouted.
Walker moved through the room toward the person who had called out to him. Before reaching the wall, he slipped the gun free of its holster and clicked off the safety.
He eased into the room, eyes darting around to take it all in. His partner stood near the center of the room, gun in hand, held shoulder high and pointed at her father. Behind him, a shattered mirror lay in the floor. Walker assumed the gun shot he had heard was responsible for its broken condition. A bit further away, Jacks’ mom and sister huddled together, terrified.
“What’s going on, Jacks?” Walker asked.
“I… I don’t know,” she said, shaking. The gun jerked in her hand. Whatever was wrong with her, however The Controller had set her off, Jacks was fighting it.
“Talk to me, Jacks.”
She kept her gaze squarely focused on the man in front of her.
“What are you doing here, Mel?”
“We got him, Jacks,” her partner said, lowering his gun as he stepped forward.
She tensed.
“We caught The Controller. We got him.”
“Where is he?”
“Secret Service has him. We’re not sure how he’s doing it, but he can make people susceptible to suggestion. We think he’s got a couple of Secret Service guys under his thrall.”
“Why aren’t you dealing with that then?”
“Because we think he’s put a whammy on you as well.”
Jacks gave him a quizzical look.
Then she laughed.
“Bullshit.”
“Is it, Jacks? Think about it. Is there any other reason you would have your gun pointed at your family?”
“They won’t be quiet,” she said. “Everything is so loud! Why does everything have to be so loud?”
“Easy, Jacks. Easy. Look at me, okay. Your dad isn’t making any noise. I’m the one talking. Look at me, okay?”
She squeezed her eyes shut as if to fight off a migraine.
“Jacks…”
“Mel?”
He smiled and gave her the come here gesture with his hands.
Her movements were slow, almost pained, but Jacks moved her arm so the gun was no longer pointed at her father, but at her partner.
“Can you make the noise go away?” she asked.
“Yes. I can make it all go away,” Walker said, still moving and keeping her attention focused on him.
“You can go now, dad,” he said softly. “Take mom and baby sister with you, okay?”
Jacks didn’t protest as Robert Jackson ushered his terrified wife and daughter to the safety of another room.
“Better?” Walker asked.
“I have to make the noise go away,” she said.
“Jacks, you have to fight this. It’s all power of suggestion. He’s telling you to do something you know you don’t want to do. He’s bossing you around, Jacks. I know how much you hate being told what to do. Where’s that stubborn streak I’m used to dealing with? Catherine Jackson does not sit quiet and do what she’s told, does she?”
“But the noise…”
“Is all in your mind. Come on, Jacks. Block him out. It’s a parlor trick. You’re stronger than he is. Fight it, dammit!”
“Mel…”
“How did he tell you to stop the noise?”
She waggled the gun in her hand.
“Then do it.” He pointed toward the large photo of the Jackson family hanging above the fireplace. God, I hope it’s not expensive.
He pointed, shaking his finger.
“There they are, Jacks. Make the noise stop.”
“I…”
“Make it stop,” Walker said, louder.
She tried to fight it, her arm quivering under the pressure. She was trying to fight the programing, but it was a losing battle.
He took a step closer, could almost reach her.
“Dammit, Jacks, do your fuckin’ job!” he shouted.
Jacks pulled the trigger and continued pulling the trigger until there were no more bullets left to fire, but even then she continued to squeeze the trigger until her partner stepped forward and put his hand on the gun.
“Stand down, Jacks,” he said. “Please.”
Her hand shook, but eventually she released her grip and surrendered her weapon.
Once he took the weapon, it was as if a switch flipped in his partner. She slumped into his arms like a puppet with her strings cut.
Walker helped Jacks to the chair.
“You still with me?” he asked.
“What happened?” Jacks asked, her face buried in her hands.
“I don’t know. Somehow, he got to you. Programmed you to kill your family.”
Jacks lifted her head, fear in her eyes.
“Did I… is anyone hurt?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he told her and she visibly wilted under the news. Walker had never seen his partner in such a state. Jacks was usually the strongest on the room. The Controller had found the right buttons to push in his partner. It was another thing they would make The Controller pay for.
“How do you feel?”
“Almost normal,” she lied.
“It’s okay,” Walker said, voice raised. “You can come back in now.”
Jacks wouldn’t look at her family as they stepped back into the room. Robert kept his wife and daughter behind him, just in case the trouble was not at an end. Mavis was on the edge of hysterics, but she was somehow holding things together. Charisma was scared, which made sense, but she did not appear to be scared of her sister than scared for her.
Walker tucked his partner’s empty gun in the back waistband of his pants and watched as the Jackson family gathered together.
“I’m so sorry,” Jacks said, barely holding back tears. “I don’t… you know I would never hurt you.”
It was her father who embraced her first, pulling her into a tight bear hug. She held him tight.
“It’s okay,” Robert said. “I’ve got you, honey. I’ve got you.”
“I’m so sorry, Dad.”
As the family embraced, Detective Walker stepped away. He looked at the family photo over the mantle, a photo now littered with bullet holes. Whatever he had done to her, The Controller had pushed her to the brink. Jacks seemed okay for the moment, but he couldn’t be certain that she would remain that way. The smart play, he knew, would be to leave her with her family while he ran off to help Agent Patterson.
He knew Catherine Jackson well enough to know that such a suggestion would not go over well with her.
“Can I have my gun back?”
Walker turned to face his partner. She was standing nearby, an outstretched hand waiting to retrieve her firearm.
“I’m not so sure that’s a great idea,” Walker said.
“I’m fine now,” she said.
“We have no way of knowing what set you off before, Jacks, and we don’t know it won’t happen again.”
“That’s why I’m leaving,” she said. “That bastard wanted me to hurt my family. If I’m not around them, I can’t hurt them.”
“And what if there is a back-up target? What if that’s me? Or our new Secret Service friend? Do you really want to take that chance?”
Jacks started to answer, but thought better of it and fell silent.
“I need you to wait here.”
“For how long?” she asked. “Am I a prisoner for the rest of my life? Does it wear off? Can it be reversed? I can’t find those answers here. Let me go with you, Melvin.”
“Not a smart idea.”
“You can keep the gun,” Jacks added. “I’ll go unarmed, but I have to know. I have to see him.”
“Do you think that’s such a good idea?”
&nb
sp; “Probably not,” Jacks said. “But I can’t just sit on the sidelines. I have to talk to The Controller. I have to look him in the eye, maybe even spit in it.”
She smiled, trying to reassure her partner that she was okay.
He wasn’t completely buying it, but he knew that if he didn’t take her with him, she would simply tag along behind him. The smarter play would be to keep Jacks close so he could keep an eye on her.
“Okay,” he said. “For the record, I think this is a bad idea.”
“Do we have any other kind?” she asked, still smiling.
“Don’t make me regret this,” Walker said, offering a small smile of his own.
“You won’t.”
“Then let’s go.”
“Let me say goodbye first,” Jacks said.
He nodded and she went back to talk to her family.
Walker watched and wondered if Jacks’ family would ever be the same again.
Thirty-two
Washington DC
Sunday
It was late when Agents Corwin and Patterson arrived at the White House.
Despite the lateness of the hour, Patterson was surprised to see that the staff were busy at work. She understood that there were multiple shifts working and that the White House staff was on duty twenty-four hours a day, covering all of the nations on the planet, keeping tabs on their allies and enemies, and interfacing with ambassadors and U.S. embassy’s across the globe kept them busy through the night.
On a normal night, President James Montgomery was known to be an early to bed, early to rise, kind of guy.
This was not a normal night.
Tonight, the President of the United States was up past his bedtime.
“Robert Corwin, Secret Service,” her boss announced once they arrived at security. He turned to face her. “Agent Samantha Patterson. She’s with me. We have urgent business with President Montgomery and Director McHenry.”
“Of course, Agent Corwin,” the nice armed Marine working security said as he motioned them to the side. “If you’ll step over here and remove your weapons and place them in the bin.”
Despite the urgency of their arrival, gaining entry to the White House was a process. Both agents knew better than to try and fight their system. It would only slow them down further, so they complied and removed their service weapons, credentials, wallet, keys, loose change, phones, and the works and dropped them into their own individual bins that were then run through the table scanner. Hey then stepped through the metal detector and were wanded by security before being cleared. Their Secret Service credentials helped speed the process along, but because they were in a hurry, it felt like an eternity.