by Matt Brolly
Unless you studied the boy’s eyes.
Daniel’s eyes reflected the change in him. They were completely vacant as if Lynch was viewing a photo of a waxwork. The second photo was an complete replica of the first. Daniel was sitting, in poor lighting, holding that day’s newspaper, glaring aimlessly into the camera lens.
‘That’s him?’ asked Rose softly, placing a hand on Lynch’s shoulder.
Lynch continued through the short stack of five photos, each similar to the last, searching for a hint of life in his son’s eyes.
‘It’s him,’ he said, gripping the last of the photos tightly as if doing so could evaporate it from existence.
‘Let me take those,’ said Rose. She took the four loose photos and placed them in the envelope and waited for him to let go of the fifth.
Lynch was transfixed by the image of his son. His mind played tricks on him, listing the awful things that could have occurred during his son’s missing twelve months. He tried to be hopeful but his mind reminded him of the atrocities he’d seen over the years: the abuse and suffering which occurred on a daily basis in America’s shadow-land.
‘Let go now,’ said Rose, her voice floating towards him as though part of the air.
Her hand rested on his shoulder, releasing the pincer like grip he had on the photo.
She moved away from him, placing the photos back on the table and he felt her absence. His shirt was damp against his skin and as he wiped his face he realized streams of tears had fallen from his eyes. He shuddered as Rose sat down again, her hand on his, and despite his grief and desperation he accepted the kisses she offered and held her hand as she stood and led him to the bedroom.
Lynch woke later with a scream. Blinking, he tried to hold onto the images that haunted his nightmare but they’d already faded from memory. His heart hammered against his chest, the rhythm wild and uncomfortable.
Rose placed her hand on his, his whole body covered in a thin film of sweat. ‘You were dreaming,’ she said. ‘Try to get some more sleep.’
Lynch remembered to exhale. He lay back down but sleep wasn’t coming. ‘When did you receive the photos?’ he asked.
‘About an hour before you arrived. I must have either walked over them as I entered the apartment or they were slipped under the door whilst I was here without me noticing. I think the former is more likely.’
Lynch clenched his teeth. ‘I don’t understand why they’d send them to me now after all these years. They must have known I was coming to see you. What is this game?’
‘I’m going to have to report this. And the photos sent to Sally’s house.’
‘Of course. You can take them in as soon as possible. I doubt they’d be as foolish as to leave a trace on anything but, who knows, we might get lucky.’
Rose absently stroked his arm. Lying here with her was the most comfortable he’d been with another woman since splitting with Sally.
‘It would make sense if you came in as well; explain your side of the situation.’
‘There’s a few things I haven’t told you,’ he said, telling her about the two Railroad operatives and Balfour’s torture session.
Rose sat up in bed. ‘You’re sure Balfour killed them?’
‘He did more than kill them but you’ll struggle to find any evidence.’
He didn’t tell her about his conversations the Controller. If he told her now she’d be compelled to bring him in for questioning and he couldn’t afford that yet.
‘I’ll give you the coordinates of the place he killed them but give me twenty-four more hours,’ he said. ‘There must be at least one mole in your department and I can’t risk it coming in yet.’
‘There’s plenty of moles, I’ve seen them all,’ said Rose with a laugh.
‘You’ve lost me there, Agent,’ said Lynch, cheered by her smile
Rose explained the search she’d conducted on the whole of the FBI headquarters.
‘So you’ve seen the whole building naked?’ he said.
‘Women only.’
‘That’s something I suppose,’ said Lynch. ‘I bet you’re Miss Popular now?’
‘You better believe it.’
‘Obviously, just because there are no Railroad tattoos doesn’t mean everyone’s clean.’
‘No, of course not. I wanted to go to Dallas and speak to Balfour’s former colleagues but the SAC, Miller has stopped me so far.’
‘He probably thinks you’re going to strip search everyone.’
‘You jest but that’s exactly what he said to me,’ said Rose. ‘But with these photos I think I have justification.’
Lynch got out of bed, noting it was only four am.
‘You should try and get some more sleep,’ said Rose.
Lynch smiled at her. It sounded like a great idea but he was too wired. He showered, turning the heat up to its highest temperature, the piercing jets painful to endure. He washed the dirt of the day from his skin. Rose was right. He should go in but if he did the Controller might not call again. He was sure the next set of photos would arrive soon. By then, he wanted to be face to face with the head of the group who’d kidnapped his son.
Rose had brewed some coffee by the time he’d changed; the black liquid heavenly as he sat and drank.
‘Twenty four hours?’ said Rose, repeating his earlier request. ‘This time tomorrow morning, if you’ve got no further then you’ll need to come in with me.’
Lynch nodded, handing her the plastic file with the photos of Daniel. He picked up his son’s sweater wondering if the boy in the second set of photos would have outgrown it. ‘Until then,’ he said, hesitating as he’d done that morning at the trailer. This time Rose relieved his embarrassment by leaning over and kissing his cheek.
He left her apartment with a sense of optimism despite the latest developments. Maybe it had been the night he’d shared with Rose or the sense that things were coming to a head, but he felt perversely lifted as he walked out into the early morning sun, the sound of birdsong lifting his spirits further.
Inside the van, he placed Daniel’s sweater into the bag on the passenger side seat and was starting the engine when his phone rang. Had they been watching all night? He didn’t care; he just wanted it to be over with.
‘Yes,’ he said, already knowing who was on the other line.
30
‘Good morning, Samuel,’ said the cool, soothing voice of the Controller.
Lynch’s first thought was to signal Rose but the Controller advised him against it.
‘Let’s not do anything rash now that we are so close,’ said the man.
Somehow they had eyes on him. If he’d been followed all this time then it had been exemplary surveillance work. That, or Lynch’s judgment was getting worse with age.
‘You must have seen the photos by now,’ continued the Controller, with that odd cadence, the words a rich baritone slowly spoken with strange intervals. Again, Lynch found himself drawn into the man’s speech patterns. It was staged but Lynch couldn’t help but be affected.
‘Is he still alive?’ asked Lynch, cursing himself for the slight tremor in his voice.
‘You have my word,’ said the Controller.
Unlike Razinski he didn’t add anything about his son’s current state. ‘What is it you want from me? Why after all these years are you sending photos of my son?’
The Controller spoke as if he hadn’t heard the question; the sign of a true politician.
‘I want to meet you, Mr Lynch. You are an extraordinary person. You proved that all those years ago when Daniel disappeared and you’ve been proving it ever since. Only you, out of everyone, never lost faith. Even your wife…’
‘Don’t bring Sally into this,’ said Lynch, interrupting the Controller’s monologue.
‘Apologies, Samuel, that was crass. But you get my point. The authorities and your colleagues; how did they treat you, Samuel? At best they viewed you with pity but most viewed you with scorn. And do you know why, Samuel? Because
they feared what was happening to you could happen to them, and they blamed you for not taking the easy option; for not accepting that your son had disappeared for good. But you’ve shown them, Samuel, you’ve proven all those doubters wrong and now you’ll get your reward.’
‘As long as my reward is seeing Daniel then I’m happy with that,’ said Lynch.
‘Oh, it goes much beyond that,’ said the Controller. ‘You are a rarity, Samuel, and I’d like to get to know you better. We can do great things together, you and I.’
Lynch grimaced. Did the Controller really mean what he was saying or was it another part of the game, a ploy to undermine him. Could he truly believe Lynch would have anything to do with him after everything he knew, after the years he’d stolen from him by taking his son?
He’d heard the refrain from the Controller’s underlings. Razinski and Balfour had tried to suggest he was like them; that he could be one of their number. Lynch couldn’t believe they’d truly meant it. But if there was a chance of seeing Daniel again then he was willing to play along. ‘Okay.’
‘Wonderful,’ said the Controller. ‘I’m pleased you’re starting to come round to my way of thinking. I have so much to show you, Samuel; a world you never knew existed, something you can’t even comprehend yet. But I meant what I said. You can be part of this world, Samuel. You’re not like the others. You’re more like me than you’ll ever know. Come, let’s meet and I can show you everything.’
‘Just say when and where,’ said Lynch.
‘That’s all been settled naturally, Samuel. Now, it’s going to sound hackneyed after all the silly nicknames your friends have come up with for my colleagues and me but I think we should meet on a train. How does that sound?’
‘Sounds fine to me.’
‘Wonderful. Your train leaves tomorrow at seven am from San Antonio. Naturally, we’ve upgraded you. You’ll have your own cabin. I can hardly wait until we finally meet, Samuel. But, Samuel, I do have to warn you and, remember, I can see you even now sitting in that little van of yours. You must come alone. And you mustn’t tell the fragrant Agent Rose about this conversation because if you do, Samuel, we will never meet. And you will never see Daniel alive again. Until tomorrow.’
With that, the Controller hung up.
31
Rose watched Lynch leave from her apartment window. He walked like a man with a giant weight on his shoulders, and the cache of photographs on her dining table explained why. To some, what happened last night would be viewed as a lapse in her professional judgment. Lynch was a civilian, and potentially a suspect, but it was too late for regret.
Lynch was understandably upset and she’d comforted him. There had been no manipulation on either side, and in the morning there had been a sense of ease as they lay together. Something she hadn’t experienced in years.
It made what she’d done when he’d been sleeping feel like a betrayal.
She called Abigail before showering. There was no news on their mother. Abigail spoke in short sentences like a sulky teenager and Rose said goodbye before she lost her temper.
She spent a long time in the shower until the fatigue of the last few days disappeared and she felt a faint sense of optimism.
An hour later she met McBride for breakfast at a pancake house a block from her apartment building. The chairs in their booth were covered in a thin lining of green faux-leather decorated with patches of discoloring and grease. McBride was dressed in his standard get-up of black suit, tie, and shades. His hair was slicked back, some of the strands held together in clumps revealing patches of scalp. It was not the best look for him but she made no comment. The approaching conversation would not be an easy one.
McBride ordered a stack of pancakes with bacon and syrup. ‘In this heat it’s fine to carb up,’ said McBride.
Rose ordered the same. ‘I saw Lynch last night,’ she said.
McBride leant back into the plush seating. ‘That came out of nowhere.’
‘He called me. Someone dropped these at his ex-wife’s house.’
McBride picked up the folder of photographs. ‘This is his son?’ he said, dispassionately.
‘It would appear they were taken on the day of his disappearance.’
McBride shook his head. ‘Jesus. And he brought these to you.’
‘Lynch called me to say they’d been delivered. I’ve set up a team at his ex’s house. County Captain Iain Haig’s team.’
‘And you didn’t think to bring Lynch in?’
‘I don’t consider him a suspect.’
McBride laughed. ‘No? You going to explain that to Miller?’
‘No. You going to tell?’
The pancakes arrived and they began eating, McBride still sitting back in his chair. ‘There is more,’ said Rose, placing the second set of photos onto the table.
McBride stopped eating and leant forward to the plastic covered photos. ‘This is Daniel?’
‘A year later. Lynch verified it was him.’
‘Christ, look at his eyes. Fucking monsters,’ said McBride, under his breath.
‘These were delivered under my door, an hour before Lynch arrived.’
McBride ate a forkful of pancakes before speaking. ‘You think he could have placed them there?’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Come on, Rose. You know as well as I that there is no rhyme or reason with some people. You also know that most abuse occurs from family members.’
Rose knew that at least eighty per cent of the time a child’s abuser was known to them but was in no mood to concede to McBride. ‘What, you think he abducted his own son and is playing some weird game with us?’
‘Stranger things, Rose, stranger things,’ said McBride, gulping at his coffee as if it was medicinal.
Rose thought about the two nights she’d spent with Lynch, and the sense of loss and desperation she’d seen in him when he’d viewed the second set of photos. She’d met some of the world’s great deceivers in her time, but if McBride was correct about Lynch she would happily give in her FBI badge.
‘You didn’t see him,’ she said, sounding like every deceived victim she’d ever encountered.
McBride lifted his hands palm up. ‘Where is he now?’
‘He has a lead he is pursuing.’
‘The plot thickens. An ex-FBI agent running his own vigilante campaign? I don’t suppose he deigned to share this information with you?’
The waitress arrived and Rose accepted the refill of her coffee. She was withholding information from McBride, something she’d never done with a partner. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, more that withholding at this moment felt like the right move. ‘We need to speak to Balfour’s former colleagues,’ she said, deflecting the question.
‘Didn’t Miller advise against that?’
‘What is it with you and Miller, McBride?’
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘First you pick me up from my hideout, then drop me at Miller’s office. Next thing, we’re working together.’
‘You’re paranoid, Rose.’ McBride pushed out his lower lip, pretending to sulk, and Rose did her best not to laugh.
‘I’d never worked directly for Miller in my life until that day. I’ve been working with Callahan for the last five years. We were assigned to collect you, told nothing, and then I was assigned to work with you. I’m not his rat if that’s what you think.’
Rose pretended to pout. ‘I wouldn’t say rat exactly,’ she said, with a hint of lightness.
‘Look, if you want to go see Balfour’s former colleagues let’s do it. We can go now and tell Miller afterwards. As far as I’m concerned, you’re in charge. However, I would appreciate it if we can be open from now on about everything.’
‘Deal,’ said Rose, nodding. ‘I put a tracker on him.’
‘Lynch?’
Rose nodded. I gave him one before but he didn’t activate it so I placed one in his phone last night.
McBride hesit
ated. ‘Shall I ask how?’
‘No.’
‘So you know where he is?’
Rose held up her phone displaying the app that was tracking Lynch.
They set off after breakfast. Dallas was at least five hours away. They were driving for twenty minutes before McBride brought up the subject of Lynch again. ‘So where is he now?’
Rose had already checked but she glanced at the app on her phone anyway. ‘Still in San Antonio.’
McBride nodded
‘We should have done this sooner,’ said Rose, as McBride pulled onto I-35.
‘What, you and I on a road trip? Yes, it’s been a long time coming. We should stop and get some beers.’
‘Balfour’s colleagues. Why do you think Miller stopped us questioning them?’
‘You know what inter-department politics is like.’
‘Even so, Balfour is potentially responsible for the murder of over forty Bureau staff. Who cares if some noses are pushed out of joint.’
‘I imagine it’s hard for the suits to admit that one of their own could be responsible.’
Rose agreed. Why blame the Bureau when they had an outsider they could tie everything to? A light manipulation of the facts could easily put Lynch in the frame. A former FBI agent let go from his position following the disappearance of his son, someone with the skill, experience, and motivation to carry out such an attack. What better candidate to wreak havoc on his former employers? Rose had seen people lost in the system before. The power of national security could go a long way. Lynch understood this, and he must have a lot of faith in her to have trusted her with the photos.
She glanced again at the flashing red signal on her phone. She’d convinced herself she’d planted the chip on Lynch out of protection for the man, but her motives were clouded.
She zoomed in on the map and wondered if it was purely a coincidence that he was less than a mile from San Antonio Train station.
32
Lynch spent the night at a hotel near the station in San Antonio. Before leaving, he packed a small holdall to take with him, leaving the rest of his belongings in the van. He held Daniel’s sweater before packing it, inhaling deeply as he banished thoughts of the two sets of photos.